


New Beginnings

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Child Abuse, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Familial Abuse, Homophobia, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Omega John, Romance, Teenlock, none of the bad things happen between John and Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>ABANDONED!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>John’s life isn’t always easy or even particularly exciting, but he likes it just fine the way it is, thank you very much. Changes are inevitable, however, when the Holmes family, one of the few remaining Alpha clans, decides to move back to London. John's world is turned completely upside down as he suddenly has to deal with his Omega heritage and a whole bunch of new, unfamiliar feelings.</p><p>Sherlock has no interest in any of the archaic rites and traditions his Alpha father has been preaching about for as long as he can remember. Things are complicated enough without bringing his biology into the mix. He would have been perfectly fine ignoring it for the rest of his life, Sherlock is convinced, if it weren’t for a chance meeting with John Watson. </p><p>A teenlock, Alpha/Omega AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's first day back in school. John's first encounter with the Holmes family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** swearing, a few mentions of (alcohol) abuse

**The First Day**

* * *

The heavy, dark blue curtains were forcefully yanked open, allowing the bright morning sun into the otherwise dim room. A few rays danced over Sherlock's face and he winced miserably.

"Ten minutes, Sherlock. I refuse to be late because of your tardiness."

Stupid Mycroft.

Sherlock ignored him and turned, burying his face in the pillows. His head pounded violently and the movement had made him nauseous. He was sporting the mother of all hangovers, but it had been worth it for the rush and the blissful nothingness that always followed, giving his mind a few hours of well deserved peace and quiet.

The blankets were pulled away from his body and hit the carpeted floor with a soft 'thump'. Sherlock shivered, curling up into a ball with another agonised groan.

"Get up, you bloody tosser!"

Something hit him in the back of the head and Sherlock grunted, waving a shaky hand in the general direction of the disturbance.

Stupid Rutherford.

There were voices now, hissing amongst each other in the hall outside his room and Sherlock listened. One annoyed and angry - Mycroft. One impatient and irritated - Rutherford. And one sweet and soft.

Yes, any second now.

His door closed almost without a sound, footsteps on the floor and then a slight dip in the mattress.

"Open up."

Sherlock rolled onto his back and complied. Two pills were shoved into his mouth. He swallowed them dry - a matter of practice. A comfortably cold washcloth was pressed to his forehead and he sighed, his body relaxing slightly. Gentle fingers opened his shirt, the cloth now running down his chest, over his stomach and back up to his arms, scrubbing at last night's dried blood, the stinging starting to pull him into full consciousness.

"Up."

Eyes still pressed shut against the vile brightness, Sherlock let himself be moved into a sitting position, swaying dangerously for a moment. The old shirt was removed, his arms manoeuvred into a fresh one.

"Buttons. Legs."

Sherlock began to work on his buttons, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. The trousers were gone in an instant, followed by his pants. He barely registered any of it - not that it would have made any difference, he didn't know the words modesty and shame anyway - until his hands were swatted away and replaced with another pair that quickly finished with his shirt before moving to his shoulders, easing him up.

"Step."

A new pair of pants and the stiff black trousers of the school uniform slid up his thighs and were fastened around his hips. Ruffling and shuffling and then his leather belt was in place as well.

"Down."

Sherlock flopped back down on the bed and was half asleep again when he felt socks and shoes being pushed onto his feet. The rest of the uniform - jacket and tie - landed on his chest and he finally managed to crack open an eye.

"You look like shit."

Sherlock grinned at his sister's back as she walked out of the room and caught a glimpse of Mycroft and Rutherford. Mycroft scowled disapprovingly and Rutherford gave him the two finger salute.

Stupid Mycroft.

Stupid Rutherford.

Lovely, wonderful Ellie.

* * *

John blindly patted for his alarm, knocking it to the floor. It was followed by a pillow, which - surprisingly - didn't help.

"Stupid bloody thing," he groaned and rolled over, grabbing for it and shutting it off before placing it back on the nightstand and getting up. He yawned and stretched and landed face down on the hard wooden floor outside his room.

"Harry!" he growled, snatched up the wayward high heel, scrambled to his feet and started banging at his sister's door. "Your shoe almost killed me!"

There was giggling and hushed voices. Another one, great. John rolled his eyes and threw the shoe against the door in an outburst of childish anger.

Stupid Harry.

"John? Would you keep it down, please?" Holly's head appeared out of the bathroom and she frowned at her son, fixing her earring.

John grumbled and pulled a face before jumping down the stairs to the kitchen. He had enough time to pour some corn flakes into a bowl and was just reaching for the milk when the shouting started.

_"Mum!"_

"Christ, Harry! We talked about-"

"Get out!"

"How much did you drink last night?"

"That's none of your fucking business!"

"I am your mother, Harriet!"

"Oh please! It’s always me, isn’t it? You don't give a shit what John gets up to or-"

"As long as you're living under my roof-"

"Here we go again!"

John looked up when the front door unlocked. A pretty brunette smiled at him, embarrassed, and slipped out of the house, smelling like stale beer and sex.

He tuned out his mother's furious yelling and his sister's screeching and focused on his meagre breakfast instead.

Stupid family.

* * *

"Your sister isn't your personal valet," Mycroft huffed when he sensed Sherlock entering the dining room, never even bothering to look up from his paper.

Sherlock ignored his brother and let himself fall into a chair, scrunching up his nose at the scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. The plate was pushed away.

"Awesome!" Rutherford beamed, swapping his empty plate with Sherlock's full one.

They ate, read and - in Sherlock's case - dozed in silence for a while, a smile forming on each of the brothers' lips when a familiar, soothing scent hit them. Warmth and comfort and security.

"Ford, stop eating Sherly's food. He's much too scrawny as it is," Calvin sighed, glancing between his sons.

"He wasn't going to eat it anyway," Ford complained, stuffing a huge bit of egg into his mouth as if to prove a point. Sherlock looked disgusted and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Where is your sister?"

"Good morning, Daddy," Ellie smiled sweetly, sweeping into the room as if on cue, her uniform perfectly pristine and spotless.

"Your hair!" Calvin exclaimed, ushering her to a chair. The girl groaned in annoyance while the boys snuck grins at each other.

"Shut up!" she snapped, wincing when the brush got caught in her curls. Calvin tutted and continued without a hint of sympathy, braiding the nearly untameable curls into a neat bun - which was going to get opened as soon as the girl was out of sight.

"Now, that's much better. Lovely, darling." Calvin smiled and pressed a kiss on top of his daughter's head.

Ford snorted.

"Yes, very lovely." Mycroft teased, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Ford snorted again, louder this time.

Ellie glared at them both, leaned back into her father and began to pout.

And Sherlock snored, head resting on his folded arms.

* * *

John nearly missed the doorbell over the commotion upstairs.

"Already?" Bill Murray asked when he stepped outside and John nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. "She's not coming back?"

"Didn't pass her GCSEs anyway," John shrugged and kicked a pebble as they walked to the bus stop.

"She could repeat the year. Rory did and he's doing kinda okay now."

"She did!"

"Third time lucky!"

"That's what mum says, but she can't be arsed. You know how she is."

Bill didn't say anything. They both knew. _Everybody_ knew. At age fourteen it had been cigarettes and beer, now, at eighteen, it was a lot more. A lot more and much more frequent.

"Sorry, mate," Bill sighed after a while and John shrugged again.

They were both panting after changing from the bus to the tube - eighty seconds was hardly enough time to run across the station - when Dimmock joined them.

"Did you hear?" he asked, jumping up and down excitedly.

John and Bill shared a look and simultaneously rolled their eyes. Timothy Dimmock; gossip extraordinaire!

"What's it today, Dimmy? Sebastian knocked up some bird? Teacher's dead? Oh dear Lord, let it be Mr Rafferty, he's-"

"Shut it, William," Dimmock interrupted and the other two sniggered. "New students!"

"So?" John quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "We get them like every other week."

"But this time it's different. They're super rich or something."

Bill snorted. "That's what we need. More of those arrogant, posh tossers making us ordinary people feel even worse about being 'only' middle class."

"Agreed," John groaned. Being dependant on the state wasn't something either he or Bill were proud of. Actually, it really sucked.

"Whatever," Dimmock waved them aside impatiently. "They are different. Mike says they're one of _those_ families, if you catch my drift."

Bill shot a worried glance in John's direction.

"What do you mean by one of those families?" the blond boy demanded, face ashen as he gripped a nearby pole, knuckles turning white.

"You know, one of the Alpha clans."

His sister was a drunk, his mother didn't give a crap about him, they were poor as hell and now this - some posh Alpha kids, coming to his school and making life difficult. Because that's what Alphas did to Omegas; make everything complicated.

* * *

"You're chipper today," Ford grinned, watching his sister struggle with her hair in the backseat.

"Sod off."

"There's no need to be anxious, Ellie. Ford and I can be at your school in a matter of minutes. If you need us to-"

"I'm not a bloody kid, Mycroft!" Ellie snarled and shook her head, auburn curls falling free around her face. She smirked. "Much better."

"We worry about you," Mycroft continued.

"Constantly," Ford added.

Ellie pulled a face and rolled her eyes.

Sherlock stared out of the window, watching the rain hammer down, and ignored all three of them.

"Your headmaster has been informed about your status," Mycroft said after a while. "If you run into any problems, do not hesitate to tell him. Or one of us."

"What do you think is going to happen?” Ellie demanded with an exasperated eye-roll, making Sherlock smile to himself. “I don't plan on devouring every bloody Omega I come across. Chances are there won't be any. They're even rarer than we are, you know that."

"Be that as it may, you do not have full control over your biological urges and-"

"I've been around Omegas before, Mycroft. Nothing fucking happened!" Ellie snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

"Not since you presented, Ellie," Ford pointed out with a sympathetic expression.

"She will be fine."

"Hear, hear; he speaks!" Ford mocked, glaring at Sherlock. "And you can't know that."

"We all were."

"But it was difficult," Mycroft reminded them as he pulled the car into the parking lot. "Just be careful, both of you. We don't want either of you to get hurt."

"Or into trouble." Ford mumbled, eyes locked on Sherlock.

"We'll be fine, stop fussing," Ellie waved away their concerns and leaned forward to receive a peck on the cheek from each of her brothers.

Sherlock grunted and stomped out into the rain.

* * *

John and Bill secured their seats in the back next to Dimmock and Mike Stamford's desk and as far away as possible from Mr Turner. They reminisced about the weekend's football match while Sally talked to the teacher at his desk, smiling and showing way too much teeth. Swot.

When the bell rang and the class went quieter. A little.

"I hope you all had a pleasant weekend," Mr Turner said in his usual bored tone that told you he couldn't care less if he tried.

He was writing the day's topics down on the board when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

John's head snapped up the instant the door cracked open. The smell was overwhelming, more intense than he could ever have imagined. Mr Gunderson, the biology teacher, had explained that there was a general Alpha scent - a bit like burning wood - each one of them naturally carried, along with a set of unique, personal smells. Much like it was with Omegas, he had said, and described their scent as a 'fresh summer breeze.'

Mr Gunderson was an idiot, John decided. Indicator one: John did _not_ smell like the fucking wind. Indicator two: smelling an Alpha was like being hit in the face with a bloody campfire.

All eyes were on the door now and John's jaw dropped when the person finally stepped inside. Not that he'd had any idea what an Alpha looked like or if there was a certain way they were supposed to look, but he certainly hadn't expected a lanky, pale girl with a mob of wild, reddish curls and piercing silver-blue-green eyes.

"Ah, yes. I was informed that we would be getting a new student today," Mr Turner smiled - or rather grimaced - when the girl handed him a slip of paper from the front office.

John looked around, but no one else seemed to be affected like he was. He sighed and rubbed his face. Bloody Alpha, already starting to make things difficult.

"Welcome to Hollow Oak, Miss C-"

"Ellie."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ellie. I go by my second name, if it's all the same to you."

"Well then, welcome to our school, Ms Ellie Holmes," Mr Turner said and there was a collective gasp from every single student in the room.

"Bloody hell!" Mike whispered and Bill nodded. Everybody - _everybody!_ \- knew about the Holmes family; super rich, super posh, super intelligent and super, _super_ weird.

Ellie raised an expectant eyebrow at the teacher and blew a bubble with her gum.

Mr Turner scowled. "Ms Holmes, we do not allow food in the classrooms," he informed her and snapped his fingers. His eyes went comically wide when she spat the sticky piece of candy right into his palm. "The bin, Ms Holmes!" he barked, irritated.

"You should have specified," Ellie shrugged and Bill snorted, unable to hold back his laughter.

Mr Turner moved his attention to the boy. "Well, I believe we have found the perfect seat for our newest addition," he decided. "Mr Murray, to the front, next to Mr Wilkes, please."

"Kill me now," Bill moaned, but picked up his stuff to make room for Ellie, who slid into the emptied seat next to a narrow-eyed John with an almost feline grace.

"Now, shall we begin with our lesson?" the teacher asked and turned back to the board.

John didn't hear anything after that, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the girl or even close his mouth, so he simply stared. Ellie's head turned suddenly and he blushed furiously at getting caught. He was about to stammer an apology when she leaned in close to sniff his neck, lips ghosting over the pulse point below his ear, and hummed softly.

"Fascinating," the girl murmured when she pulled back and took out her history book as if _that_ hadn't just been the strangest thing _ever._

John shuddered and tried to force himself to concentrate on the lecture. Which would have been a lot easier if his skin hadn't been tingling and his hands would've stayed still for a moment.

'This is going to suck so much,' he thought and groaned, sliding down further in his chair.

* * *

It took Sherlock precisely nine minutes and forty-eight seconds to come to the conclusion that everyone in the room, including the teacher, were grade-A morons. Nine minutes and forty-eight seconds was the amount of time he'd needed to finish the pop quiz, which left him with nothing other to do than stare at his peers for the rest of the lessons. He felt his hands twitch and started to fidget with a pen, tapping it on the desk.

"Mr Holmes, is there a problem?" Mrs Flores demanded and raised an eyebrow at her newest pupil.

"I'm done."

"Well, do go over your answers again and check them, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and did as he was told. Not because he had been told, but because he wanted to. Obviously.

_Question 1: "Which of the following conversions corresponds to an 'isomerisation' process?"_

_A. heptane to methylbenzene_

_B. heptane to heptene_

_C. heptane to propene and butane_

_D. heptane to 2,2,3-trimethylbutane_

Sherlock sighed and shoved the paper away, unable to stand another read-through, fearing it might actually make him dumber. This was what they called Advanced Chemistry? He leaned back to find a comfortable sulking position. Daddy had promised them an adequate school to promote their abilities. He should have known better.

"Thirty minutes, everyone," Mrs Flores announced and Sherlock considered stabbing himself in the eye with a pencil just to get out of class.

The girl next to him coughed and his attention snapped to her. Recently broke up with her boyfriend, still hung up on it. Dull.

A boy in the front row, helping his mate two seats over to cheat by tapping on the desk. Idiots.

Another boy near the door with a broken wrist. Telling everyone it's from football practice because he's ashamed to admit he's dancing ballet. Unimportant.

Mrs Flores, a tiny red speckle on the hem of her blouse, her face pale and hands twitchy; could be fun.

"How long have you been bulimic?" Sherlock asked casually, crossed his legs and raised a challenging eyebrow.

Everyone turned to stare at him while the teacher's eyes grew wide.

"I... I beg... I beg your pardon?" Mrs Flores spluttered, embarrassed, and turned a dark shade of pink.

"You have been throwing up your breakfast before class, a bacon and egg sandwich. There is some sauce on your sleeve. You are on edge and your hands are sweaty, both of which can be signs of regular use of strong laxatives. Oh, and there is the laxative in your briefcase. Your hair is thinning and your nails are slightly grey, leading me to believe that it is not a recent development. I would guess the base of the problem are unresolved father issues and a pathological need to succeed, but I never guess, so it would be much appreciated if you could fill that particular gap. It's fascinating, really. I haven't been able to study this illness before, would you agree that it fares well to say-"

 _"Get out!"_ Mrs Flores shrieked and Sherlock smiled mock-sweetly.

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I'll be looking forward to seeing you again," he drawled and winked at her before strolling out of the room, the perfect picture of indifference.

He walked straight into the headmaster's office without bothering to knock.

* * *

"I don't know, Mr Rafferty."

"Why doesn't that surprise me in the least, Mr Watson?" the teacher sighed as if John had personally offended him. "You haven't been taking this course seriously and prefer to goof around in class, it's no wonder you can't fallow."

John bristled. It wasn't that he disliked Geography, it was Mr Rafferty who posed a problem. They could be talking about volcanic activity in Asia and the next instant he would ask John about sandstorms in the Savannah or something else completely unrelated, scolding him when he didn't have a fucking clue what the man wanted from him and making it look like John hadn't been paying attention.

As if John would risk his studentship and future plans like that.

"It's a downright shame, Mr Watson," Mr Rafferty said and shook his head.

John clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, making an effort to control his temper.

"What a fucking wanker," Ellie hissed quietly, leaning close. John jumped. For some reason she had decided to stick with him during the morning, which had earned him a fair amount of whistles and cheers from his mates. The girl either hadn't noticed or simply didn't care. He suspected the latter. It had been annoying at first, having a shadow following him around from class to class, especially since it was a shadow making him positively giddy. But she was good company and after a while the sensation of being drowned in her scent had subsided to a small tingling in the back of his head.

"It's because you're poor."

"What? How do you-"

"Your uniform is second hand, your bag is at least four years old and you bring lunch from home, indicating you can't afford to buy it here."

John stared at her, torn between anger and amazement.

She rolled her eyes. " _I_ don't care, but _he_ does. He clearly treats the people who receive studentships worse than the ones coming from wealthy backgrounds."

"How did you notice that?"

"I observed."

"Just like that?" John asked and the girl nodded, a small frown on her face. “That’s quite brilliant, you know.”

"Not really," Ellie shrugged, but John saw the tips of her ears turn red.

"Mr Watson!" Mr Rafferty snapped and John mentally braced himself for another round of 'humiliate John in front of the class'. "It is Ms Holmes first day at our school and you're already keeping her from-"

"Actually, _sir_ , John was just telling me what page we're currently on," Ellie interrupted with a twee smile and the man visibly softened.

'She was right! What a bastard,' John fumed and narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind answering the practice questions, Mr Watson?" the teacher asked and pointed at the first one projected onto the screen.

_"Council estates are usually found in which landuse zone?"_

John cursed himself for being about to prove the man right - fine, he hadn't been listening today, sue him - when he felt a hand on his leg. Four soft squeezes.

"Erm... D? Outer suburbs?"

"Lucky guess. How about we try another one?" Mr Rafferty said and clicked away on his laptop.

John glanced over at Ellie, who flashed him the most unexpectedly evil grin before facing the board again with a blank expression. They managed to get through fourteen more multiple choice questions and Mr Rafferty turned redder with every one John answered correctly. In the end, the teacher gave up as John and Ellie shared a smug smile.

"I like her," Bill whispered from the desk behind them and John silently agreed.

* * *

"On your first day, Sherlock. Unbelievable!" Mycroft hissed, making an obvious effort to keep his voice low.

"During the first lesson," Ford corrected, fixing his younger brother with a disappointed glare.

"I was bored," Sherlock shrugged and Mycroft's left eye twitched. Ford placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. They both sighed.

The bell went off, signalling lunch break and the halls gradually filled with chattering students.

"Which room?" Ford asked just as Ellie stepped out of the biology lab, followed by a tall boy with messy, bright red hair and green eyes, a slightly smaller, chubby one and-

Three pairs of eyes snapped to the last member of the laughing group, a fair-haired boy, smaller than the rest of them, deep blue eyes and a warm, nurturing aura. An Omega.

"And here's my escort," Ellie complained when she spotted her brothers. "Bill Murray, Mike Stamford and John Watson. I am allowed to make new friends, am I not?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, but the rest of the Holmes clan stared past her at John, who had stopped mid step, frozen to the spot.

"Of course, dear," Mycroft smiled after collecting himself and nudged Ford, snapping him back to reality. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Look at Captain Posh," Bill grinned, running his eyes up and down the older boy. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him and Bill winked.

Mike groaned, turned around and pulled the other boy along. "See you in the study group after English, Ellie, yeah?"

"Mm," the girl nodded, trying not to laugh at the gobsmacked look on Mycroft's face. Ford didn't make the effort and openly sniggered at the unusual sight of a speechless Mycroft.

"John, you coming?" Bill called over his shoulder and the other boy shook himself.

"Uh... yeah, right," John stammered and quickly ran after them.

"So much for making a good first impression," Ellie snorted and rolled her eyes. "What's for lunch?"

"Thai," Ford said and held up a white take out bag.

"Awesome!" the girl exclaimed and made a grab for it, but Ford held the food over his head, sticking out his tongue. They started to bicker while moving to the exit and Mycroft walked after them with a fond smile on his lips.

Sherlock didn't notice them leaving until Ellie's pencil case hit him in the back of the head.

"Come on, I'm hungry," she whined.

Sherlock nodded absently and, after inhaling deeply once again, joined his siblings, but his mind was reeling and his body trembling.

* * *

John sat outside at one of the picnic tables, picking at his sandwich. The bread was stale and the butter seemed off. Which would have been fine, if there had been some meat or even a few vegetables or a bit of salad in it. But there wasn't. Being poor was the worst. He sighed and wrapped it again, tossing the food back into his bag.

The hunger was instantly forgotten when the direction of the wind changed. Mr Gunderson was definitely a fucking idiot. Burning wood smelled nice. So did a small campfire. But this, _this_ felt like drowning in a wave of fire. Every single hair on John stood to attention and goose bumps spread across his whole body. He didn't have to turn around to know who'd just sat down at the table across the stone path from them and he silently thanked whatever god there was that the weather had cleared up and that they had decided to eat outside today. The encounter in the hall had been more than enough to reduce him to a complete mess and he wasn't inclined to spend too much time in close proximity to a whole bloody flock of Alphas.

"Speaking of the Devil," Bill sighed. Mike, Dimmock and Rory craned their necks to sneak a peek at the Holmes table.

"He really made her cry?" Dimmock asked and Rory - Bill's brother who was a year above them in Sherlock's class - nodded eagerly.

"Announced that she has some kind of eating disorder in front of the whole class. Said he did it because he was bored when some of the guys confronted him about it."

"Doesn't sound like he's sorry," Bill mused.

"That's the worst part!" Rory exclaimed, irritated. "He totally isn't! I don't think he even got the point. Kept repeating that he didn't say anything that wasn't true. That he was only pointing out facts."

"What a wanker," Dimmock decided and the others nodded in agreement.

John finally dared to turn around. Ellie was propped up against another red haired boy - no curls, though - her head tucked under his chin. They talked and laughed when the one with the dark ponytail said something and pulled a face.

If he concentrated, John could just about make out their individual smells among the whirl of their fire. He caught a whiff of something which reminded him of roses, that was definitely Ellie. It was sweet and caressing and very nice, but also faint. The rich, heavy and somehow wooden odour seemed to come from the one in the fancy three piece suit - which probably cost more than everything John owned combined with every single pound he'd earned in his life. Ever. Oddly enough, ponytail guy smelled like old books, or at least that's how John would have described it if asked.

But none of that compared to Sherlock Holmes. He was all consuming, seeping into John's every pore and touching him all over, even though he was sitting at least ten metres away. He was like an oncoming storm on a hot summer evening; cold, dark and completely desirable. It took all of John's willpower - and a bit more - not to stand up and move closer, not to press himself against the other boy, run a hand through those soft looking curls, taste his beautiful lips and-

"John, you okay?" Bill asked and the other boy realised his friends were staring at him.

"Mm, fine," he murmured while his brain yelled at him and his body ached with need. 'This is a bit not good,' he thought, sighed and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

It was infuriating!

Sherlock Holmes did not need anybody, yet he wanted to hold John and never let him go again. Wrap himself around the smaller boy, make him his. And yell it from the rooftops until every last person in the world knew he was claimed.

He stared down at his body and the growing erection between his legs. _Traitor!_

Sherlock Holmes did not give in to some ridiculous Alpha urges, he was better than that. The fact that he had an iron grip on the table in order to stop himself from pouncing at John did so not disprove that. At all.

"Sherlock!"

He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow at his sister.

"Eat."

He shook his head and she sighed, sliding up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest and resting her chin on his shoulder.

Sherlock decided that now was probably a very good time to cross his legs.

"For me," Ellie pleaded and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Sherlock glared at her but popped a dumpling into his mouth. His stomach rumbled in delight and he scowled as he grabbed a container of fried rice. _Traitor!_

At least his sister seemed satisfied and left him alone, using Mycroft as her new pillow. Which was fine, because Sherlock wanted her to go away and wasn't the slightest bit jealous of _their_ sibling bond.

And Sherlock Holmes definitely didn't blush and refused to believe that his pink cheeks had anything to do with the fact that John had just turned around and looked at him.

* * *

"You sure your mum's coming?" Ellie asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Yes."

"You do realise that you've been saying that for nearly an hour, don't you?"

" _Yes!_ " John snapped and regretted it instantly. "Sorry, didn't mean to-"

"No worries," Ellie smiled, offering him another drag of her cigarette.

"If you need to go... I mean... you don't have to wait here, with me."

Somehow the two of them had ended up alone on campus. Bill was still under house arrest - for a _very_ good reason - and had had to leave right after study group. Mike's mother was the most controlling woman on the face of the earth and waited for her son in front of the school every single day to drive him home. Which was cause for a lot of good natured teasing. Dimmock had hitched a ride with Bill and Rory, because he was a lazy tit and didn't want to walk the ten minutes to the tube station.

"It's fine," the girl shrugged and they fell into a comfortable silence.

"Do you get along well? With your brothers?" John asked after a while. He didn't miss the flicker of pain cross Ellie's face before she pulled herself together.

"We drive each other crazy and argue all the time. But I love 'em," she grinned after a moment of consideration.

John chuckled. It was no different with him and Harry. He wanted to throttle her most of the time, but that didn't mean he cared about her any less.

"What's that?" John wanted to know when she took back the cigarette.

"A stupid tradition," Ellie groaned and wrinkled her nose, stabbing at the symbol on the back of her left hand.

"That's not vague at all."

Ellie grinned and rolled her eyes, but began to explain. "It's a family bond crest. Up until the early twentieth century, all Alpha families used them. Today they're kinda rare, but Aldéric insisted."

"Aldéric?" John raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"My _father_ ," Ellie spat, sounding disgusted by the word.

"You don't like him very much, do you?" John asked and the girl shook her head. "Why?"

She snorted. "You wouldn't ask that if you knew him."

"So, what's it mean? The crest?"

"The red square represents the bond. It's always a geometrical form with the same number of edges as there are children in the family. The Alpha 'designs' it once he or she has decided that the family is complete. If I ever decide to start a family, it would be expected of me to do the same on my right hand. Left is for your parents crest, right for yours and your partner's."

"Are you gonna do it?"

"Have a family or tattoo some stupid mark on each of them?"

"Both?"

"No."

"Why did you ask if the answer to both questions is no?"

"Specification is important. People spit gum into your hands if you don't specify," Ellie grinned smugly.

"That was awesome, by the way," the boy laughed. "Go on."

"Okay, erm... each of the black circles stands for a member of the family. The ones in the edges are my siblings and me. The more filled out they are, they higher up you are in the family hierarchy. Mycroft's is almost completely filled out 'cause he's the eldest. Ford's is almost the same, he's only a year younger. The difference is more significant between Ford and Sherlock, they're six years apart, and again for Sherlock and me-"

"Wait, how old are you? And how old is he? He's only one grade above us," John frowned.

"He tends to flunk out a lot because he gets bored and thinks there are better things he can occupy his time with. He's eighteen, I'm fourteen."

"Holy shit! What are you doing in our year?"

"Contrary to Sherlock, I tend to think that school is very important and skipped a few grades," Ellie shrugged as if it was nothing. John thought it was rather brilliant.

"Why does yours have a double line?"

"Because it represents me. It's so potential mates can see where you stand in your family. First borns are of highest value and would require the biggest dowry from the suitor's parents."

John frowned at that, but said nothing.

"I know," Ellie sighed and bit her bottom lip, absently rubbing a fingertip over one of two circles in the middle of the square.

"And those are your parents, I guess?" John mused when he noticed the motion.

"Mm. The completely filled out one is Aldéric, head of the house," she snorted and rolled her eyes again. "The other-" she cut herself off and looked at John, seemingly unsure how to proceed.

"Your mother?" the boy tried, but Ellie shook her head.

"My Daddy."

"But I thought Aldéric was-" John began and then it dawned on him. The final circle was just a very thin line, no filling at all, and slightly lighter in colour than the rest. "You have two fathers. An Alpha and an Omega."

"I'm sorry."

John looked at her, confused.

"I don't... please don't think that I believe Omegas to be lesser human beings because of their biology. I absolutely hate the fact that you're perceived like that by society," the girl mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"It's not your fault," John tried with a small smile, but Ellie still looked upset. "Besides, it's not as bad as it was half a century ago. We have the same rights as everybody else and-"

Ellie exploded. "No you don't! You need an elder's permission to marry, you are not allowed to take jobs in several sectors, because you are thought to be 'weak' and they pump you full of suppressants and birth control from the day you present. It's disgusting!"

"Well, yeah. But most parents let their Omega children live their life the way they want to inside those restrictions. Mine always did."

"But that's exactly the point," Ellie hissed. "There shouldn't be any restrictions. You should be free to choose. You should be able to live your life without having to fear that some stupid Alpha arsehole claims you just because you don't take suppressants. No matter what your body might tell you during a heat, if someone just takes you it's... it's _wrong!_ "

Something clicked in John's brain. "Your father, Aldéric, he thinks differently about this, doesn't he? Is that what happened to your parents? Did he just-"

"Watson!"

Both John and Ellie jumped as Carl Powers approached.

"What are you doing with that little freak, Watson?"

"Beg your pardon?" John asked, automatically stepping in front of the girl.

"Her brother humiliated Mrs Flores today. Knew all about her, the freak. Don't know how he did it, probably is some creepy stalker or something. Your parents must have fucked up majorly when it comes to him, eh?"

"Don't talk about my Daddy like that!" Ellie snarled - no, actually _snarled_ \- and pushed past a gaping John. Something about her scent changed and he instinctively knew things were going to get ugly.

"Carl, leave her alone. Whatever Sherlock did has nothing to do with her," John tried to reason. With little success.

"Shut it, Watson. Walk away now, this is between me and her," Carl barked.

"Going after someone's little sister, now that's a new low, even for you."

A strong fist hit John square in the jaw and Ellie lunged at Carl, pushing the heavily built boy to the ground with impressive strength.

_"Ellie!"_

John whirled around at the sound of Sherlock Holmes' deep voice and saw the boy quickly striding towards them. Ellie, after another angry growl directed at Carl, reluctantly got up and straightened her skirt, but continued to glare.

Without hesitation, Sherlock curled a hand around Carl's throat and hauled him up, their faces almost touching.

"Consider this a warning. Touch either one of them again and I will destroy you."

John gaped disbelievingly as the taller boy was thrown several meters across the lawn and rubbed his neck before scrambling to his feet and running off. He didn't sense Sherlock approach until a warm hand was placed on his cheek and a long, pale finger gently wiped a drop of blood from the edge of his mouth.

"You'll be fine," Sherlock said, sounding a little raw and husky all of a sudden. "We're going, Ellie," he added, dropped his hand and turned around abruptly. He grabbed his sister by the elbow and dragged her along, leaving the girl to shrug and shoot an apologetic look in John's direction.

A look John completely missed in his struggle to steady his wobbly legs and get his breathing under control. He brought a hand up to his face where Sherlock had touched him only moments before and shivered at the memory of it.

It was surprisingly hard not to lick his fingers and get a taste of Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock slammed the door closed after his sister and leaned against the outside of the car, his knees about to give out under him. He stared at the red smear on his finger and brought it closer to his face. Before he had a chance to think about it, his lips had closed themselves around the digit and a feral moan escaped from deep within his chest.

Shocked by his own actions, he rapidly removed the finger, wiping it on his trousers before jumping into the driver's seat.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't answer, one hand frozen on the key in the ignition, the other gripping the steering wheel.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asked worriedly, looking at him with big, confused eyes.

"Fine." Sherlock finally croaked and cleared his throat. "Stay away from Powers, he's an idiot."

"No shit." The girl rolled her eyes and leaned her head against her brother's shoulder. "So, how was your first day? You know, apart from almost making poor Mrs Flores resign her job?" she asked, grinning up at him.

Sherlock shrugged and started the engine. There was absolutely no way he was going to tell his baby sister about what was happening to him - whatever the bloody hell it was.


	2. Collision of Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gains some insight into Sherlock's home life while Sherlock himself is up to no good. Business as usual.

**Collision of Worlds**

* * *

Fancying someone was supposed to be wonderful. Wonderful and exciting and absolutely amazing. There were supposed to be secret glances, shy smiles and quick brushes of fingers. It was supposed to be good.

But it wasn't. It wasn't good at all.

It was frightening and scary and alarmingly puzzling. There were no glances, no smiles and no touches. There was nothing of that. Nothing but confusion.

And it felt _so_ wrong.

"Hey, dickhead!"

"Huh?" John's head snapped up and he stared at Bill.

"What's wrong with you? You've been really weird and quiet and shit the last couple of weeks." Bill sucked in his lower lip. He always did that when he was worried.

"Fine. Just tired, I guess," John shrugged and smiled. Judging from his friend's raised eyebrow, it wasn't convincing.

"Are you sure? You can talk to us, we won't tell anyone. Promise," Ellie offered and shot him an encouraging smile.

"Nah, it's fine. Really," John tried again. Ellie and Bill shared a concerned look, but thankfully dropped the subject. "How'd your tests go?"

Bill groaned, pulled out the most crumpled up piece of paper John had ever seen and threw it in the other boy's general direction before burying his face in his hands.

_"William!"_

John sniggered, skimming through his friend's answers. The best and most entertaining arguments always started with Ellie calling the boy by his full name. Which he hated. A lot. And there were less amusing ways to spend a free period than listening to the two of them going at each other like the mad idiots they were.

"Whaa'?" Bill mumbled, peeking at her through his fingers.

Ellie hit him over the head with her note pad.

_"Ow!"_

"They should fail you on the grounds of being a fucking slob," she scolded, glaring at his test as if it had personally offended her.

"At least I'm not cussing like a bloody sailor," Bill shot back, sticking his lower lip out to sulk.

"Yes, you bloody well are!"

"Shut it, _Cerise_!"

John snorted. He was never going to get used to the girl's birth name - _Cerise Elienor Holmes_. No wonder she called herself Ellie.

"I'll be able to afford a name change, because I actually pay attention in class and manage to get more than twelve out of fifty points on a history exam."

"History's so boring," Bill moaned dramatically.

"Your face is boring," Ellie remarked snottily.

"That's just jealousy speaking, darling," Bill grinned smugly right before he was tackled to the ground.

"Yield, peasant!" Ellie cried, using one hand to pin the boy's arms over his head and the other to tickle his sides, making him squirm and giggle uncontrollably.

John merely rolled his eyes. He was used to the two of them and their fighting by now. It only ever stopped during lunch when Mycroft or Ford joined them. At first it had been strange to have one of them around every day. He'd asked Ellie about it and she'd just shrugged and said that was what overprotective older brothers did. And then that had been that. Besides, John had soon discovered the good side of the girl constantly being tailed by one of her brothers; free take out, for all of them, every day one of them stayed around during break time.

Bill, of course, would say the biggest advantage was having Ford around to talk about sports and girls. Which, according to Ellie, was excruciatingly dull and annoyed her to no end, making it all the more fun for Bill.

John, for his part, was just glad that Sherlock never joined them. He hadn't seen the other boy since the first day and he was actually _very_ relieved about that, because he had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

'Hey, I think I'm falling for you even though we haven't spoken more than five words with each other and you're probably not even feeling that way about me, because why should you? And I'm actually not gay, or at least I thought I wasn't, so there's that too, but I guess with you it's different. Oh and I have no fucking idea why that is, so yeah.'

Yes, John really didn't mind that Sherlock wasn't there to witness the unravelling of his stupid, embarrassing schoolgirl crush.

"You wanna hang out and finish that stupid Geography essay after PE today?" Bill asked as he flopped down in his seat again, panting heavily.

Ellie joined them a moment later, grinning victoriously. She always won. Bill said she was cheating, Ellie said it was a superior strategy. John knew it to be a mixture of the latter and the fact that Alphas were naturally stronger than either Omegas or Betas. He didn't say anything, however, because he wasn't sure if being physically superior was counted as cheating or not. Bill would probably say yes. And Ellie would definitely say no.

"Sure, we can't go to my house, though. Mum's working the night shift today and is sleeping during the afternoon. Besides, Harry's home too."

Bill pulled a face.

"We could go to my place?" Ellie offered and the boys turned to stare at her. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just... you never offered before, that's all," Bill shrugged.

"And I never asked why your dad spends so much time with that woman from the corner shop down the street who isn't your mum, have I?" the girl snapped defensively, narrowing her eyes.

"Jesus, calm down there. Forgive me?" Bill asked sweetly, giving the girl his best puppy dog eyes. John chuckled and Ellie rolled her own eyes, but nodded.

"Just have to call Mycroft first to check something."

"What about your parents?" John wondered. He had never actually seen either of the girl's fathers since the Holmes family had relocated back to London six weeks ago. It had mostly been Mycroft - and sometimes Ford - taking her to and from school and even attending the PTA last week.

"Daddy doesn't mind, he loves having people around." Ellie smiled fondly at the mention of the man. "Now shut up, it's ringing."

_"Ellie?"_

"Salut Myco. Ça va?"

 _"Ça va, merci."_ There was a pause and John could practically hear Mycroft trying to figure out what was going on. _"Qu'est-ce qui te trouble?"_

"Est-tu à la maison?"

_"Oui?"_

"Est-ce que Aldéric est-la?"

_"Non, je ne crois pas. Papa me dit qu'il est aux Etats-Unis jusqu'à nouvel ordre."_

"Excellent! À bientôt."

She hung up with a huge grin on her face. "My place it is."

"Will your brothers be there?" John asked, suddenly remembering that the chances of running into Sherlock were a lot higher in the guy's own home than they were at school.

"Probably."

John's heart almost stopped. Bill beamed at the prospect of seeing Ford.

"Apart from Sherlock, that is. He's... otherwise occupied," the girl added after a moment, her voice oddly strained.

John let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. That was good, right? He didn't want to see the other boy. He wanted to get over this stupid crush and get back to his normal life.

Right? _Right?_

* * *

The room was spinning, black and white dots dancing in front of Sherlock's eyes. He reached out and made a grab for them, sending the non-existing sparks flying in all directions. With a slightly hysterical and throaty laugh, he pressed the remaining liquid from the syringe into his bloodstream before carelessly throwing it aside.

He moaned happily as the venom began its course through his body, sending jolts of electricity to every last one of his nerves, making his skin tingle delightfully and his muscles relax, finally silencing the constant noise in his head.

It was _glorious_.

Everything mingled together in a tight ball of memories and emotions before dissolving into blissful emptiness. No more anger and resentment towards his father. No more fear of being lonely and isolated. No more need to fulfil expectations and achieve greatness. No more pressure to conform to society's dull and tedious rules. No more feelings, no more emotions. All gone.

Except for John.

_John!_

Sherlock hummed at the thought of the younger boy, his golden hair, his deep blue eyes and his scent.

_The scent!_

Marvellously intoxicating and all consuming, like being wrapped in the softest velvet and caressed by a gentle breeze of fresh, warm summer air.

There were footsteps on the stairs outside, growing louder with every passing moment until the door was pushed open to reveal a pale looking Mycroft.

"No," Sherlock rasped and promptly began to cough viciously, one hand clamped over his chest to ease away the pain. He didn't want his brother. He wanted Ellie. No, he didn't want Ellie either, he wanted _John_. He wanted to lose himself inside the depths of his warm eyes to never surface again and spend the remainder of his miserable life safely hidden away from the rest of the world.

"Oh, Sherlock," Mycroft sounded defeated as he cupped his brother's face, running a thumb over his sweaty cheek.

"Ellie. Where?" Sherlock croaked and winced, closing his eyes to shut out the light that was now streaming through the open door and into the otherwise dark room.

"At school, where she belongs. And certainly not running after her junkie brother on murder lane," the older Holmes hissed, his hold on Sherlock's face tightening ever so slightly, betraying a layer of anger waiting to be unleashed.

"You intercept our conversations. Clever. Clever Mycro-" He was interrupted by another wave of coughs and fell back on the filthy mattress, cradling his abused arms close to his stomach.

"What did you take, Sherlock? How much?" Mycroft asked, kneeling down beside him and opening one of his brother's eyes to look at the dilated pupils. His other hand reached for Sherlock's wrist, measuring his racing pulse.

"Don't know. Don't care." Sherlock tried to roll away, but Mycroft grabbed his shoulders to hold him steady.

"Please, Sherlock." He was almost pleading now.

"Everything!" the younger brother grinned manically, gesturing at the syringes and little plastic bags scattered around his makeshift bed.

Mycroft's face vanished from his line of sight and Sherlock sighed, waiting for the darkness to pull him under completely, only half-listening to the conversation going on in the background.

"What did you give him?"

"Like I'm gon'a tell you! Besides, yew don't know if i' was me who gave i' ter 'im. Could 'ave been anyone 'ere."

A choked sound and then a sharp intake of breath.

"What did you give my brother?"

"Noth-"

A slap, skin against skin, fist against jaw. Then another brief struggle for oxygen.

"Awright geeezzaa! Here, that's all I gave 'im, I swear! Sorted mate, yeah?" A rustling sound, then some coughing and spitting - blood. "Already looked pret'y wasted when 'e turned up 'ere, though."

"Go."

"This is my roo-"

"GO!"

The dealer scrambled for the door and Sherlock felt Mycroft sitting down beside him, pulling his younger brother's curly head into his lap.

"Why did you come?"

"You know why," Mycroft said, running a hand through Sherlock's hair, moving a few strands out of his eyes.

"Will you stop coming eventually?" Sherlock asked, hating how small and scared he sounded. Mycroft must have noticed too, his voice somewhat softer when he spoke again.

"No, never."

"Promise me."

"I promise, Sherlock."

It suddenly felt good to have Mycroft close and Sherlock moved until he was sitting half on top of his brother, his face nuzzled into the crook of Mycroft's neck, breathing in his familiar scent. Strong, protective arms wrapped themselves around him, holding him tightly, a hand running soothing circles over his back.

"I'm tired."

"Sleep."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Sherlock sighed, satisfied, and began to drift off, smiling against his brother's chest when he felt a pair of warm lips pressed to his forehead.

* * *

The Holmes manor was nothing like John had expected it to be. And he had spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining how the family lived.

There was soft, light grey carpet instead of the dark, wooden floors normally associated with houses such as this. The furniture was modern, mostly held in black and white with the odd glass cover or door on a cupboard. The walls were surprisingly lacking in boring old oil paintings. Instead, there were framed photographs, mostly of the four siblings, from various places around the globe, ranging from years back to pretty recent, going by the one showing all the Holmes children, sitting on the same sofa John and Bill were currently waiting on.

John had to grin when he properly looked at it. Whoever had taken it had perfectly captured each of their personalities. Ellie was grinning brightly and making bunny ears behind Ford's head, one leg folded under her body and her own head resting on Mycroft's shoulder. Ford tried - and failed - to look annoyed at his sister's shenanigans, sticking his tongue out at the girl, while Mycroft was in the middle of rolling his eyes, unable to suppress the fond little smile tugging at his lips. Sherlock was perched on the arm of the sofa, ignoring the three of them in favour of staring directly at the camera, one eyebrow raised as if asking, 'Are we done here?'

"Everything here looks so fucking expensive. I'm afraid I'll break something just by looking at it," Bill whispered, intimidated, and John nodded in agreement. He didn't even ask why Bill was whispering, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

"How long does she need to get changed?" John asked, eyes still scanning the room.

"Women," Bill snorted and the other boy sniggered.

One of the walls was completely covered with shelves filled with books by authors John had never even heard of. There was a television set Bill was eyeing with considerable interest, definitely costing more than either of them could ever dream to afford. A grand piano, a violin leaning against it, several plush leather armchairs, what looked like some sort of chemical experiment on a small table in the corner, more books stacked on the floor next to a pile of comfy pillows. John took everything in, but his traitorous eyes wandered back to the picture. Or, to be more precise, Sherlock in said picture.

The cheekbones, the perfectly bowed lips, the curls, the delicate pale skin, the-

"It's a beautiful picture, isn't it? I'm amazed they stayed still long enough for me to take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Bill exclaimed at the new voice and John blushed furiously when he realised he was still staring at Sherlock with his mouth hanging open.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you boys," the auburn-haired man smiled and John relaxed immediately. He had never met another Omega besides his late great-grandma when he'd been a little boy, but there was no mistaking when it came to 'Daddy' Holmes; the man practically radiated kindness and warmth.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout the swearing there, Mr Holmes," Bill grinned sheepishly and got up to shake the man's hand. John followed suit.

"Please, I've raised four kids, there's nothing I haven't heard," the man laughed cheerfully and the boys couldn't help but smile along. "And please, call me Calvin. Now, let's see; _'The other ginger who swears almost as much as Ford and me.'_ , that must be you."

"Glad she chose my best attributes to talk about," Bill winced and took the offered hand. "Bill Murray, it's nice to meet you, sir. Erm, Calvin."

"Likewise, dear," Calvin chuckled and turned to John. His smile widened as he looked the boy up and down and before John knew what was happening, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug. "You must be John," Calvin beamed when he pulled back, one hand resting on John's shoulder.

Bill frowned at the friendly greeting, but John found that, surprisingly, he didn't mind in the slightest. 'Must be an Omega thing,' he thought and returned the smile.

"Now, did my daughter offer you anything to drink?"

Both boys shook their heads.

Calvin sighed. "I did teach her some manners, you know," he said and motioned them to follow through to the kitchen. "But I'm afraid they didn't stick."

"My parents gave up somewhere along the way," Bill smirked proudly - _idiot!_ \- and John blushed again. Thankfully, Calvin simply chuckled again and opened the fridge.

The three of them were chatting and laughing when Ellie joined them a few minutes later, worriedly chewing her lower lip.

"You should be resting," she said petulantly, wrapping her arms around her father and pressing a kiss to his cheek before burying her face in the back of his cashmere cardigan.

"Sorry, we didn't know you were ill, Ellie never said anything," John apologised and Bill mumbled something around the two biscuits he had crammed into his mouth.

"Don't worry, dear, I'm quite all right," Calvin assured him, but Ellie didn't seem convinced, holding on to her father a little tighter, mumbling something in French neither of the boys understood.

Calvin merely sighed and loosened the girl's grip, turning her around to face him. "I am fine, darling," he repeated and pecked the girl on the forehead before ushering her to one of the bar stools.

"Daddy's girl," Bill whispered when she sat down, earning himself a kick to the shin. Ellie smiled innocently when Calvin turned around at the boy's pained cry, only to immediately deliver a second blow as soon as the man looked the other way again.

No one noticed Calvin's stiff movements and the pained little gasps over their bickering. No one but John.

* * *

That peaceful moment between being asleep and being fully awake was over much too quickly and the memory of the previous few hours came rushing back; school, a text from his dealer where to find the supplier, drugs, pain, John, bliss, more drugs, Mycroft...

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and met his brother's.

"Welcome back."

Sherlock groaned and tried to sit up, only to collapse back against Mycroft's chest, silently cursing his stupid limbs.

"You almost overdosed," Mycroft sighed, pressing something wet and cold to the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock hated how good it felt.

"Did not," the younger brother said stubbornly, stretching his legs and flexing his fingers.

They sat in silence for a long while, Sherlock working on getting some feeling back into his extremities while Mycroft continued running his handkerchief over his brother's neck and face, wiping away sweat and tears.

"You can't keep doing this, Sherlock," Mycroft said when the other boy moved away, resting his back against the wall next to him. "One day I might not be able to get to you in time. You could die, Sherlock. Is that what you want? Because there are easier and cheaper ways to achieve that."

Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line and kept staring at his bare feet - where the hell were his shoes anyway?

Mycroft sighed again and ran a hand over his face. "Do you realise what this is doing to me? To _us_? Do you even care about-"

"Don't!" Sherlock hissed angrily, lifting his head to glare at his brother. "Go away!"

"No."

Sherlock grunted and closed his eyes, slamming his head back against the wooden wall. He regretted it a second later when bile started rising up his throat and threatened to choke him. He carelessly spat it onto the floor. It was dirty anyway.

"Drink this," Mycroft ordered, shoving a bottle of water across the mattress.

Sherlock took a few greedy gulps before pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them, eyes closed again. "You know that it's not true. I do care."

"You sure make an effort to convince us otherwise."

"Don't act like you're so perfect, Mycroft!" Sherlock snapped, whirling around to glare at his brother. "You are just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"At least I try," the older sibling barked back, meeting Sherlock's eyes with an equally angry expression.

"What's the point?"

"You are starting to sound exactly like father," Mycroft snarled, freezing and paling when he realised what he had just thrown at his brother. "Sherlock, I'm-"

"Don't! Don't you dare!" Sherlock cried and jumped up, stumbling to the door.

"I didn't mean-" Mycroft tried, pulling himself up as well and reaching out for the other boy.

"Piss off," Sherlock hissed, swallowing the hurt and slamming the door behind himself.

* * *

"Is it always like this?" John wanted to know when Calvin stepped out to answer the phone.

Ellie frowned at him and began to sprinkle her side of the pizza with a ridiculous amount of cheese. "What'cha mean?"

The boy opened his mouth and closed it again, turning a piece of salami around in his fingers and avoiding the girl's eyes. The afternoon at the Holmes manor had been, without exaggerating, one of the best he'd had in a pretty long time for several reasons.

Calvin had made them pies for tea, different kinds for each of them nonetheless. Not only were pies awesome as it was, John couldn't even remember the last time his mum had cooked something for him. No, that wasn't true. He remembered, he just didn't want to. It had been almost six years ago and he'd been ill with the flu. Holly had heated up a can of soup after John had whined and cried for nearly an hour, slamming it on his bedside table with poorly concealed annoyance written all over her face.

After tea, Calvin had helped them with their essays, actually sitting down with them at the table, genuinely interested in what they were doing, providing useful tips and showing them how and where to improve their writing. He had brought them his tablet computer to do some research. John's own computer was so old and slow, he usually had to use the ones in the school library. The older Omega had praised them when they'd had good ideas and laughed along with them when they - mostly Bill and Ellie - had started fooling around. Homework had been fun, for fuck's sake!

When Bill's brother had come over to pick him up, Calvin had invited the man in, chatting and enjoying a cup of tea with him before sending them on their way. John doubted that his mum knew the name of a single one of his friends, let alone their parents or siblings.

And then Calvin had invited John to stay for dinner, offering to let them make their own pizza. _Pizza!_ With real meat and vegetables, not the cheap frozen ones that tasted like cardboard. He had asked John questions about his day, school, girls - which had been a bit embarrassing, causing Ellie to chuckle and snigger - and loads of other stuff. And he had listened and offered advice, laughed with them and just generally been... present.

"John?" Ellie snapped her fingers in front of his face, starting to look concerned.

"Sorry," the boy grinned sheepishly and placed the piece of meat on the dough. "It's just, is he always so... involved? Like, is he always around when you're here?"

"Well, yeah. Most of the time, if he isn't away on business with Aldéric. Why, was he annoying you with his interrogation? I can tell him to back off if it makes you feel uncomfortable. He doesn't mean anything by it, it's just how he is and-"

"No, not at all. Annoying, I mean," John interrupted her. "It was good, actually."

Ellie tilted her head. It was her time to make a pretty decent impression of a fish. "Good? What do you-"

"Darling, your father's one the phone. He would like to talk to you."

The girl groaned and tossed some mushrooms onto her pizza. "Tell him I don't give a shit!"

 _"Ellie!"_ Calvin's head appeared in the door and he scowled at his daughter. The girl narrowed her eyes, wiped her hands on her jeans - causing her dad to sigh in frustration - and stalked out into the hall. John heard her bark _"Quoi?"_ into the receiver before Calvin closed the door, taking over the cooking.

"Thank you," John said after a while, eyes fixed on his food.

"Whatever for, dear?" Calvin asked, blinking at the boy in surprise.

"Everything, I guess," John shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "The food, helping with our school project, letting me stay over here and... well, everything, really."

"You're a friend of my daughter's, it goes without saying," the man smiled and John tried to smile back, but didn't quite manage. Calvin frowned at him for a moment, then his eyes went wide with realisation. "Oh," he said, running a hand through his hair as he studied the boy.

John lowered his gaze and concentrated on chopping the onion in front of him until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"How about I call your mum and see if it's all right if you spend the night? I'm sure Ellie would be delighted to spend some more time with you."

"That's really nice, but you don't have to-"

"Do you not want to stay?" Calvin raised an eyebrow and the boy shook his head. "It's fine, John. You are welcome here any time," he smiled, gently squeezing the blonde's shoulder.

"Why?" John demanded insecurely, biting his lower lip.

"Because everybody needs a place where they can feel at home," Calvin said earnestly, smiled again and pressed a kiss on top of John's head before taking the baking tin and putting it in the oven.

* * *

"You're dripping on the carp-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pushed past the man into the flat, throwing his soaked coat on the floor somewhere along the way to the bedroom.

"You pick that up!"

Still ignoring him, Sherlock continued to strip until he reached the bathroom, a pair of pants now the only thing covering his shivering body.

There was a sigh behind him. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Sherlock snapped and turned on the tap, holding his stiff hands under the warm water, feeling gradually returning to the frozen digits.

"Mm, sure." The man's voice was dripping with sarcasm which - unsurprisingly - only caused Sherlock to grow angrier.

"Leave me alone," he grunted and tried to close the door, but the man was quick and slid a foot in to prevent exactly that from happening. Sherlock glared at him.

"In case you forgot; this is _my_ place, you're standing in _my_ bathroom. And I really don't have the energy to deal with one of your stupid moods, so you better give me a pretty damn good reason why I should let you stay here or-"

The man was silenced by Sherlock's lips on his. They hit the doorframe, Sherlock's hands on his hips, effectively holding him in place while he explored the other man's mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"You stupid fucker," the man said, but a grin started to spread across his face. "That's a good start, but I'm not fully convinced yet." he smirked, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of Sherlock's underwear, pushing them down over his hips.

"Is that so, Victor?" Sherlock asked in mock shock, grinning right back.

"Mm," Victor hummed and raised an eyebrow at the younger boy.

Sherlock stepped out of his pants and dropped to his knees, pulling Victor's zipper down in the process. Victor moaned and had to steady himself against the wall with one hand when Sherlock licked a wet line from the base of his balls over his half hard cock, right to the tip, before taking him into his mouth completely. Sherlock smirked around the flesh in his mouth and began to suck in earnest, eliciting a string of little gasps from the other man.

It didn't take long before Victor tugged at Sherlock's curls, sending jolts of pain through his head. But the younger man got the hint and stood up, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along Victor's thighs, stomach, chest, neck and jaw.

"Good boy," Victor drawled lazily and one of his hands wandered around Sherlock's waist, between his cheeks. "Come 'ere."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment, his senses unusually slow from the residual drugs in his system. He smiled hungrily when he spotted the white powder coating Victor's gums and teeth and slowly licked his way into the other man's mouth, swirling his tongue to reach as much of the desired substance as possible. His eyes snapped open and he hissed when one of the older man's finger's breached completely without lube or prep. He tried to pull away.

"Ssh, don't fight it," Victor breathed, biting at Sherlock's neck and sucking at one of his earlobes. "No need to show me what a big, bad Alpha you are. I'm stronger," he whispered, pushing in a second finger. "So." A third finger. "Much." He began to scissor them, causing a cry of pain from the curly-haired teen. "Stronger."

Sherlock let himself be thrown against the wall face first, Victor right behind him, one hand holding his wrists in place above his head. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, swallowing the whimper that threatened to escape him as Victor forced himself into him roughly, biting down on his shoulder.

"So... _argh_...tight!"

Sherlock's mind was drifting, oddly detached from his aching body, waiting for the pain to subside and the drugs and pleasure to kick in. He could feel Victor behind him, _inside him_ , his hands scratching down his sides, probably leaving dark red marks, moaning and grunting as his hips snapped forward again and again, the sensation starting to be more delightful by the minute.

"Nothing like fucking another Alpha," he growled and Sherlock heard himself moan, pushing back against the man. Victor hummed in agreement and after another few hard thrusts, emptied himself inside Sherlock with a throaty cry.

Dazed, Sherlock barely registered being shoved into the shower, or the hand grabbing his still present erection, bringing him his own release with only a couple of strokes. The warm water raining down on them made him sleepy and he let Victor half carry him to the bed without protest. He was almost completely gone by the time the older man decided it was time for round two, sliding inside Sherlock's throbbing hole and attaching a warm mouth to his neck.

Sherlock woke up several hours later with a sleeping Victor still buried inside him.

* * *

John felt slightly guilty when he realised what time it was. He hadn't meant to stay in the shower for over forty minutes, but _damn_ , was it nice to have a bathroom to himself for a while, leaving enough hot water for him so he didn't have to rush things for once.

He stretched, curling his toes into the unbelievingly soft material of the carpet, and grinned. He could get used to this. He flopped down on the huge double bed - seriously, best guest room ever! - and closed his eyes, humming happily. For a moment he considered staying right there, ignoring the fact that it was only half past nine on a Friday night and that Ellie was probably already wondering what was taking him so long. Not that it was his fault that the shower had half a bazillion functions he'd simply _had_ to try out.

Sighing, John got up and started rubbing a towel over his hair, moving to the chair where he had deposited his clothes earlier. It was empty and the boy frowned. He whirled around, confused, until he spotted a pair of neatly folded pyjama pants, a t-shirt and a pair of comfy looking woollen socks on the desk in the corner. Surely they hadn't felt the need to throw his things in the wash, had they?

Of course they had and he chuckled as he picked up the socks and pulled them on. The laughter died in his throat when he remembered the state of his uniform - second hand, a size too big and barely holding itself together in several places. He flushed dark red, suddenly feeling completely out of place in the posh environment. He quickly slipped into the pyjama bottoms - Ford's, going by the style and faint smell still recognisable over the laundry detergent - and tucked the shirt over his head. He picked up the towels and threw them into the laundry bin. He may not have been raised by the rich and famous, but he still had some manners, thank you very much.

It was out in the hall where he caught sight of himself in a mirror and had to smile despite the uneasy feeling of intruding into a world he didn't belong to that was making itself known in his gut. The trousers were black with dark blue stripes, his favourite colour, and the shirt was sporting the cover of the 'Fly on the Wall' album by AC/DC - a pretty fucking awesome band. It was silly, but somehow it made him relax, knowing Ellie had gone through the trouble of sorting something out that he would be comfortable in. Bless her.

"There are no issues with him being an Omega?"

John stopped in front of the girl's room when he heard Calvin talking. His tone was warm and interested and even though he felt wrong doing it, the boy crept closer to the door, listening.

"Nuh-uh. He does smell nice, I guess, but that's about it."

"And John? What about him?"

"I'm not sure." Ellie sounded like she was chewing her lower lip. "I think it's a bit overwhelming, if he's with all of us together, you know? I mean, he hasn't said anything, but there were signs."

John silently cursed. She just had to notice that, didn't she? Then again, at least she wasn't aware of the effect Sherlock had on him. Now _that_ would be embarrassing.

"That's only natural, darling," Calvin explained gently. "It's how nature makes sure we stay obedient to the Alpha population."

"I don't like it," Ellie murmured petulantly and John had to grin at the thought of how she was probably crossing her arms and scrunching up her nose, giving her that sulky toddler appearance. "It's not fair that we can make him - _all of you_ \- feel like that. It's disgusting and wrong. I hate it."

"You don't have to act on it."

"And I won't!" the girl stated determined.

"That's that, then," the man chuckled and John smiled at the sound. "I am extremely proud of you, love," he added after a moment, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Daddy?"

"Mm?"

"I wish the others were here. Do you think he would be different if they were with us?"

"I don't know," Calvin sighed sadly and John could feel the mood changing. The situation began to feel too intimate for him to be there and he took a step backwards, intent to go back to the guest room. The floor squeaked and the conversation on the other side of the door came to a halt. John held his breath, praying.

"John?"

Shit!

"Hi there," he smiled sheepishly, slipping into the room.

"Well, I'll leave you two," Calvin said and got up from where he'd been sitting on the girl's bed. "Behave and don't stay up too long," he warned half-heartedly, pressing a kiss on top of his daughter's curly head.

"It's the weekend, Daddy," Ellie protested and rolled her eyes. John chuckled.

Calvin raised an eyebrow at her, but they could both see the smile tucking at his lips. "Goodnight," he said, ruffled John's hair and left the room.

"He's going to be back with snacks in about ten minutes," Ellie sighed, not without a certain fondness, before moving to the end of the bed and clapping her hands together. "Now, what do you wanna play?" she asked, pointing at a stack of games on the floor next to the telly.

"Let's shoot something," John smirked and caught the controller she tossed in his direction.

* * *

Ellie was engrossed in the game, beating John spectacularly, but the boy wasn't paying much attention anyway.

"This is bullshit!" Ellie exclaimed, startling John. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you today?"

"What do you mean?" John asked, cringing when she fixed her pale eyes on him in an intensive stare.

"You're acting weird. I've killed you at least a dozen times in the last half hour, it's not like you," the girl frowned, switching the telly off and turning to face her friend.

"You're mad 'cause you're winning?" John grinned, but Ellie only narrowed her eyes.

"Is it because you overheard Daddy and me talking? It's all right, you know, doesn't matter. We were talking about you, so no harm done with the eavesdropping."

John groaned. "How do you even know-"

"How much you've heard? Please!" she snorted, waving a dismissive hand at him.

"Who are the others?" John spluttered. It had been nagging him all evening, the way Ellie had talked about them; lovingly yet unbelievably sad.

"My brothers. Augustin, Edric and Drury," the girl said without hesitation, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, pointing at some of the pictures hanging there - ultrasound pictures.

"Your bro- there's _more_ of you?" John gaped. He hadn't expected that. Actually, he hadn't had any idea what to expect, he reminded himself. "Have they already moved out? And why are they not on the crest?" he asked, remembering the conversation they'd had on their first day.

"They're dead," the girl said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Shit, I'm sorry! What happened? No, wait, we don't have to talk abo-"

"They were never really alive," Ellie interrupted him, paling a bit, a haunted expression on her face.

"Oh." John bit his lip, playing with the hem of his shirt. He may have been an idiot sometimes, but even he knew when _not_ to press an issue.

Ellie sighed. "How much do you know about Alpha and Omega mating?"

"Not very much," he admitted sheepishly, surprised that the girl continued talking about the matter.

"Well, you know about suppressants and birth control since you're taking them, right?" John nodded. "There are several other drugs used to achieve certain favoured outcomes. The child of an Alpha and an Omega has equal chances to inherit either parent's gender and it will never be a Beta."

"Yeah, we learned that in biology. Alpha and Omega results in either Alpha or Omega. Alpha and Beta will most likely have Beta kids, Omegas and Betas will always have Beta offspring. And Beta and Beta will normally have Beta kids, but can also have Alpha or Omega children, depending on the family history and all that. Like with me."

"Exactly. Now, in order to continue an Alpha bloodline, the Alpha parent wants to have as many Alpha children as possible. Daddy is an Omega and Aldéric's an Alpha, meaning there's a fifty percent chance of getting an Alpha child and a fifty percent chance of getting an Omega child."

"But all four of you are Alphas. Shouldn't there at least be one Omega? I mean, according to the math," John frowned and Ellie nodded, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hormones."

John blankly looked at the girl.

"They increase the chances of receiving Alpha offspring to about eighty to ninety-five percent, it differs from person to person."

"Right, I've read something about that. It's rather controversial, isn't it?"

"Do you remember why?"

John tried to conjure a picture of the article he'd read in his doctor's office once. Hormones that increase the chances of bearing an Alpha child, painful procedure for the Omega parent due to biological incompatibility, creating a hostile environment for Omega foetuses, making it impossible for them to develop properly, resulting in-

"Oh my God!"

Ellie nodded again, lips pressed into a thin line.

"He miscarried? All of them? Three times?" John asked numbly. He couldn't comprehend this information, the fact that people would risk their child's life for the sake of having the preferred gender. "And Calvin was fine with that?"

"Of course he wasn't!" the girl snapped, glaring at him. Her fists were clenched, her body trembling, moisture beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes.

"But why-"

"Disagreeing with Aldéric Holmes is something you simply _don't do_ , John. It never fares well to anger a tyrant."

"He's really that bad?"

"Worse," Ellie said weakly, rubbing at her eyes. John could see her lower lip trembling and the effort it took her to hold back. And suddenly he felt the overpowering need to comfort her, to make everything all right again and be close to her. Without thinking, he moved closer and pulled the girl into his arms.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, pulling back to be able to look at her friend.

"Not sure," John admitted, noticing how their faces were only a few centimetres apart. He moved a hand to cup her cheek and the girl copied his movements, gently running a thumb over his face.

"What am _I_ doing?" she choked out, straddling John's lap and frowning down at him.

Beyond words at this point, the boy merely shrugged and craned his neck, pressing their lips together.


	3. Kisses and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title pretty much sums it up already.

**Kisses and Cuddles**

* * *

John was completely lost in the moment.

The feeling of Ellie's soft, warm lips on his, moving down over his jaw to his neck and back up again, leaving a hot trail on his sensitive skin. The deep, overwhelming Alpha scent, more prominent than ever, causing him to shudder in anticipation. Her hands, one squeezing his hip, the other gently moving over his chest to cup the base of his neck, tugging at his silky blond strands. And the delicious sounds coming from deep within her chest, sweet little moans and hungry, desperate grunts in time with the movements of her tongue against his.

"Joh-n..."

The boy moaned into her mouth at the almost obscene pronunciation of his name, the little hitch in her voice making it _oh_ so much hotter. Without thinking he threw back his head, submissively bearing his throat and Ellie lost no time, sinking her teeth into the exposed flesh.

"Shit!" John groaned, trembling hands trying to grip something, anything, his fingers ending up digging into the girl's back. He was going to have the mother of all love bites tomorrow, but he couldn't bring himself to give a toss about the comments his mates were undoubtedly going to throw at him. He craned his neck, meshing their lips together again. He was pretty sure that if they were in a movie, _this_ would be the moment fireworks started to go off somewhere in the background.

"John," Ellie breathed again, more clearly this time.

"Mm?" The sixteen year old boy side of his brain had stopped functioning properly ages ago and the Omega part agreed that continuing this was a top priority.

"John, stop!"

John didn't want to stop. This was good. Extremely good, utterly awesome, pretty fucking amaz-

_"John!"_

The boy blinked up at Ellie, completely dazzled by the sudden change of position. He was lying on his back, both his wrist in a slightly painful grasp from Ellie, who was sitting on his legs, staring down at him, panting. Her face was torn, several different emotions taking turns to make an appearance; confusion, arousal, some more confusion, embarrassment, a bit of regret and another wave of raw bewilderment. John met her eyes and his heart sank. He'd been kissing, no, _snogging_ , Ellie. Ellie Holmes. A fucking Holmes! The sister of _Sherlock_ Holmes, the guy he'd been lusting after for the past few weeks. The little sister of Sherlock, the _fourteen year old_ sister of Sherlock Holmes. The sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. _Mycroft!_ Yep, he was as good as dead.

"Oh my God," he groaned, cheeks flushing pink. Thankfully, the girl decided it was safe to release his hands and he proceeded to bury his face in them. He could manage to stay there, behind his hands. For, like, _ever!_

"That was interesting."

John cracked open an eye and risked a glance at Ellie through his fingers. She had the tip of her thumb pressed against her swollen lower lip, brows furrowed in concentration and her face was a mixture of genuinely intrigued and slightly smug. Overall, she was far too calm and casual, John decided, considering what they'd been doing only moments earlier. "Interesting?"

"Yes, wouldn't you say?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face. "I've never had the chance to be physically close with an Omega. I didn't think it would have this kind of an impact, that was certainly a surprise. This is glorious!" she beamed, actually clapping her hands together in excitement.

"Glorious? Wait, I don't-" John began, only to interrupt himself when her words properly sank in. "This wasn't your first kiss, was it? Oh dear God, please tell me it wasn't-"

"Of course not."

"Good, that's... yeah, good." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I don't know what came over me and I'm sorry if I let you to believe that I... that this... between us... we..." he trailed of, helplessly gesturing with his hands. Ellie frowned at him for a couple of seconds and then broke out in full blown laughter, rolling away from the boy and settling down on the bed next to him. Not the reaction John usually got when kissing people.

"Oh God, John! You and me? That's ridiculous," the girl snorted, wiping a stray tear away from her eye.

"Yeah, thanks," the young Omega grimaced, a little put out. Not that he wasn't glad that there weren't any serious feelings to make this situation even more awkward, but she didn't have to be so cruel about it now, did she?

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Ellie sighed, still trying to suppress the grin tugging at her lips. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at John, smiling warmly. "It's not like that. You're nice and cute and I care about you. I mean, you're a friend, a bloody good one, considering I've only known you for a few weeks. But that's it."

"So, what was that, then?" John asked, unable not to smile back. Damn her charm!

"Pheromones. Basic chemistry, John."

"Oh."

She frowned. "You sound disappointed?"

"No, it's not that. It's just, that was intense, you know?" Ellie nodded. "I had no idea what kind of... _power_ all this Alpha and Omega business held over me. It's fucking scary."

"You tell me! Do you have any idea how hard it was to regain control over myself? Tough shit, I can tell you," the girl laughed, falling back down on the mattress.

John chuckled and they fell silent, lying beside each other, shoulders touching and, much to his surprise, it was exactly like it had been all the times before, just two mates hanging out, completely comfortable with each other. No signs whatsoever of a heavy make-out session having taken place.

"John?"

"Mm?"

"Are you up for an experiment?"

John turned his head and gulped at the predatory look in the girl's eyes. "What kind of experiment?"

"Kissing, John. Do keep up," she said, rolling her eyes in what he'd learned was a slightly annoyed fashion. "Come along," she grinned and jumped up, offering him her hand and pulling him up before darting out of the room.

"I'm _so_ going to regret this," John murmured to himself, nevertheless following her out into the hall.

* * *

Sherlock wriggled until he had disentangled himself from the heavy body on top of him and rolled onto his back with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. His body ached in all the right places and his mind was still comfortably fuzzy and quiet. He grinned.

"You going?" Victor mumbled sleepily, blindly reaching out for the other man. Sherlock carefully avoided the touch.

"Obviously."

"It's the middle of the night."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you very much."

"You're insufferable, do you know _that_?" the older man groaned and finally got a hold of Sherlock, tugging him back against his chest, humming in satisfaction. His hand wandered from Sherlock's arm, down over his elbow to his chest and stomach before settling on the bony hip, squeezing gently. He pulled the lean body closer until they were pressed together and placed a hand on the younger man's face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. "God, you're beautiful."

"So I've been told." Sherlock disliked this part. Very much so, in fact. This level of intimacy, _closeness_ , was, outside the heat and frenzy of an imminent sexual encounter, rather disagreeable.

"Bastard," Victor chuckled and leaned forward, but Sherlock shifted, spinning his face away from the pair of incoming lips. Victor sighed. "Still?"

"It's nothing personal."

"Yeah, 'course not," the older man snorted, rolling away.

 _'Here we go again,'_ Sherlock thought, clenching his jaw. "I have informed you, on more than one occasion in the past, that this sort of physical contact makes me-"

"Uncomfortable, yeah. Me sticking my cock up your arse is fine, but _oh behold_ if I try and plant a kiss on you," Victor sneered, more than just a hint of agitation in his voice. "You're bloody weird, Holmes."

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored him in favour of hunting down his clothes, not even looking at the other man until he was dressed again. He never saw Victor coming and was negatively surprised when he found himself pressed against the nearest wall with a wet mouth firmly attached to his own. With an annoyed grunt he pushed against Victor's chest and the other man stepped back, a smug grin plastered on his face. Sherlock glared at him and turned on his heels, slamming the door to the flat considerably harder than strictly necessary.

The last thing he heard before vanishing in the night was Victor's low chuckle.

* * *

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"Like you're breaking into one of your brothers' rooms, that's what it bloody looks like," John hissed, making sure no one was hearing their conversation.

"Probably 'cause that's exactly what I am doing." Ellie smirked when the lock clicked and she pushed the door open.

"Whose is it anyway? Please don't let it be Mycroft's, he scares the shit out of me as it is, I don't need snooping around in his room added to the list of things he's going to punch me for. You know, the list also containing sticking my tongue down his beloved baby sister's throat?" the boy said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and followed her, instantly realising that it was definitely _not_ Mycroft's bedroom they were standing in.

He quietly closed the door, eyes wandering around shamelessly. There were books and clothes scattered all around the floor, only interrupted by the odd piece of furniture, including an enormous desk, holding what appeared to be some sort of chemical experiment. Beakers, test tubes, vials, Petri dishes, bottles filled with brightly coloured liquids, a Bunsen burner, scalpels - it looked like some sort of super villain laboratory. John sniggered.

"Sherlock's," Ellie said absently, motioning for him to sit down on the bed. Which he did, after carefully shoving a pile of papers and several zip lock bags with dead bugs - _eww!_ \- out of the way. He inhaled deeply and wrinkled his nose. If he didn't know better, he'd insist that they were breathing some kind of foul smelling mist, not air. Which, now that he thought about it, seemed entirely possible, given the rumours about Sherlock that were going around at school.

"See if you can find my shirt as long as we're in here. Pink Floyd, 'Dark Side of the Moon'."

"Why would he have your clothes?" John asked, confused, crooking an eyebrow at the girl, who had started rifling through the things on the lab table.

"It's tight on him."

The Omega very nearly chocked. "Sorry, _what?_ "

Ellie sighed, shooting him an impatient look. "Some bloke down at one of the bars he goes to fancies him. Wearing tight clothes equals free entry and cheaper drinks."

John swallowed hard. This wasn't the time to imagine Sherlock, strutting around with only a thin layer of fabric clinging to his chest, smiling that dazzling smile and bating those incredibly long lashes to get his way with people. _'No, seriously, stop it, you moron!'_ he scolded himself and went down on his knees in search of the troublemaker. He was halfway under the bed when the sound of breaking glass startled him into banging his head on the bed frame. Cursing, he pushed himself up, rubbing the already forming bump.

"What are you doing?"

Ellie didn't look at him and kept staring at the little broken bottle instead, some kind of liquid starting to burn a hole through the wood of the table, a little stream of velvet smoke descending up into the air. She smirked. "Revenge, John!"

"What? Why?"

"He almost killed one of my pet rats. Oh yes, _he_ says the experiment was perfectly safe, but Oscar's sudden lack of fur tells a different story. Stupid wanker," she grumbled, pushing a full carton of brand new beakers onto the floor, watching in satisfaction as they all shattered.

John grinned and rolled his eyes. Sisters.

"Did you find the shirt?" The boy shook his head. "Bugger, that was one of my favourites. Ah well, come here, I think I got everything right," the Alpha girl smiled, studying a test tube by holding it up into the light.

"You think?" John asked warily, joining her at the table.

"I'm, like, ninety-seven percent sure. Here, take a big sip."

"No way!" John stared at the viscous brown goo and scrunched up his face. Absolutely not.

"Oh, for the love of-" the girl groaned. "I'm not trying to poison you, you daft idiot!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Chicken," she teased and brought it up to her own lips, swallowing half of it before holding it out to John.

With a defeated sigh, the boy took it and drank the rest of what looked like Satan's idea of a cocktail and promptly began to cough and spit, sticking out his tongue. "What the actual fuck, Ellie?"

"Just wait a couple of seconds."

"Why, what's supposed to-" John began and then fell silent. The ghastly taste in his mouth and throat was gone, replaced by, well, nothing. He couldn't even taste himself, which was more than a little odd. "What the hell?"

"Told you it would work," Ellie grinned smugly. "Now, shut your eyes and hold your nose closed."

"Why?"

The girl sighed and rubbed her forehead. "This is getting tiresome. Do it, John!"

"You are so weird," he sighed, but complied. A moment later he found Ellie's lips pressed against his again and he gasped, opening his eyes. "What exactly are-"

"What else did you expect from an experiment about kissing? Now shut up and concentrate."

"Unbelievable," the boy muttered, but did as he was told and closed his eyes again. He moved his own mouth against the girl's, prying her lips open with his tongue. The sensation was nowhere near as intoxicating and overwhelming as before, he realised. Without seeing, smelling or tasting her, it was nothing more than a simple kiss. Not a bad one, but not a spectacular, toe curling, romantic comedy film 'the boy finally got the girl' kiss either.

They broke apart after only a minute and Ellie quickly pulled a piece of paper out from somewhere beneath the mess on the table and began looking for a pen.

"You are not seriously going to take notes?" John chuckled, already knowing the answer to that one. She was fast slipping into what he had decided to call 'science mode', her default setting for when something piqued her interest. John found it strangely endearing - probably because it was how he had seen Sherlock behave, too, that one time their classes had to share a lab.

"Of course I am! How else am I supposed to compare this to later experiences?"

"Oh, of course. How silly of me."

"Indeed," the girl agreed, picked up a half burnt pencil and started scribbling, the tip of her tongue visible in the corner of her mouth.

John smiled fondly and sat back down on the bed, watching her. "Hey, just out of curiosity; how long before this effect wears off?" he asked after a while when he noticed that the inside of his mouth was still completely without taste.

"Couple of minutes. I think. Maybe half an hour. Two or three hours at the most."

"I hate you so much," John groaned.

Ellie looked up and smiled sweetly. "No, you don't."

* * *

Eating was such a dull task. It took up a ridiculous amount of time and, as if that in itself hadn't been irritating enough, slowed down the body during the time needed to digest, not even providing the beautifully distracting slow-motion view of the world Sherlock craved - and found in the drugs. No, a boring, hindering lethargy, distracting and annoying him to no end. So for the last three days, Sherlock had successfully ignored the rumblings of his stomach, the dizziness and all the other signs of his body screaming at him to supply it with at least a minimal amount of nutrition.

Sherlock Holmes was not going to give in to the preposterous demands of his body - a mere form of transport for his intellect.

Which is why it felt even more like a defeat when he found himself standing in front of the fridge, staring at its contents with disgust written all over his face. Apples - dull. Chocolate digestives - preferably not. Vodka - not what he was looking for, but becoming more and more of an option the longer he thought about it. After several long minutes, Sherlock settled for a slice of cold, left over pizza, picking up the jar of frozen fish eyes as well while he was at it. He had meant to test a theory for a while now, no reason not to do it tonight.

Angrily chewing on the food, he slid out of the kitchen and bounced up the stairs, not bothering to stifle his movements. It was hardly his fault that other people chose to sleep at half past one on a Saturday morning, was it now? He ventured to the upstairs sitting room, disposing of the crust in a nearby potted plant. The room was soothingly dark and he opened both of the French windows, closing his eyes and letting the cool air wash over him. Night time was so much more desirable than the day.

Swirling around, he strode over to his little chemistry table - he wasn't inclined to go back to his room just yet, fearing the _smell_ hadn't completely vanished yet - and opened the jar, using a knife to scrape out some of the eyes. He carefully placed them in a grinder and added a few drops of a sizzling liquid before pulpifying the mixture. Satisfied with the results, he turned on the Bunsen burner, poured everything into a beaker and put it in place over the heat. After less than a minute the liquid turned dark purple and began to bubble. Sherlock grinned, turned off the burner and took out a pipette, adding a bit of his experiment to a slide.

"Are you going to stand there the entire night?" the curly-haired Alpha asked and placed the slide under his microscope without so much as looking in the other boy's direction.

"Water," John spluttered, surprised, standing in the doorway and awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Just, erm, getting something to drink. That's all."

Silence fell and Sherlock had almost forgotten the boy's presence until he spoke up again.

"What are you doing?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I'd rather not."

"Oh. Okay." John sounded... _odd_ , and Sherlock finally turned his head.

 _'Tightly gripping the glass, unable to hold his fingers still - nervous. Avoids meeting my eyes, therefore nervous because of me. Keeps tugging at the collar of his shirt and-'_ Sherlock jumped up and was towering over John in an instant, narrowing his eyes at him. Trembling ever so slightly and wondering why exactly that was, he reached out to touch the dark red spot on John's neck.

"It's not what you think," John said immediately, voice high and squeaky.

"So you are telling me that you _haven't_ been kissing my sister and that you _didn't_ let her chew on your neck?"

"Well... yeah, but it's not like that. It was an experiment!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and enjoyed the sight of John faltering and swallowing hard. Served him right, too. He had absolutely no business doing that with Ellie, John was supposed to be his and - wait, what? The older teen took a tentative step closer, suddenly surrounded by John's scent, and breathed in deeply. He was practically bent over the smaller boy now, their noses almost touching, their breaths mingling with each other's. Slowly, Sherlock lifted a hand, fingertips ghosting over John's cheek. John gasped and his eyes went wide, giving Sherlock the perfect view of those deep blue orbs and dark, blown wide pupils.

Sherlock's mind went completely and utterly blank and he leaned forward, closing the final distance between them, and sealed his mouth to John's.

* * *

_"It was an experiment!"_

John regretted his choice of words as soon as the sentence had left his mouth, biting his lower lip and searching Sherlock's face for any indication as to just how much trouble he was in. The older boy, however, seemed far away, brows furrowed and eyes staring at nothing in particular.

Pressing himself against the wall and as far away from the other body as possible, the blond took a deep breath, realising too late what a colossal mistake that would be. His nostrils filled with Sherlock's scent and his knees almost gave out beneath him. _Why_ exactly wasn't he running his hands through those deliciously soft looking curls? _Why_ exactly wasn't he probing that long, pale neck with his tongue? _Why_ exactly wasn't he pulling Sherlock closer until their bodies were touching? _Why_ exactly wasn't he exploring those perfectly bowed lips with his mouth?

John couldn't think of a single reason.

And then Sherlock's fingers were on his cheek and everything was just _too much_ and he gasped. The world seemed to slow down around them as Sherlock leaned closer, never breaking eye-contact, and kissed John. A simple, firm touch of lips against lips that ignited something deep within John; a spark, travelling from his very core to every single fibre of his being, leaving a hot trail until it felt like his whole body was on fire. John melted against Sherlock with a content hum.

The following minutes were all a bit of a blur; Sherlock's hand, flattening, cupping his face and a thumb stroking lazy circles over his cheek. Sherlock's tongue, carefully licking across the seam of his lips, requesting access, exploring every last inch of his mouth, devouring him completely. Sherlock's mouth, trailing over his jaw to his neck, nibbling kissing. Sherlock's teeth, seeking out the love bite, biting at it almost possessively, leaving a mark of his own.

_Sherlock!_

They pulled back simultaneously, both panting and flushed, eyes locked. With an inexplicable and unexpected surge of confidence - which he _so_ wasn't going to question at the moment - John sprawled his hands out over Sherlock's chest, rubbing gently, enjoying the texture of the fine muscles underneath the fabric of his shirt. He let one hand wander higher, almost expecting Sherlock to vanish in a cloud of smoke at any moment. But the other boy stayed very much present and John reached his face, still moving higher until he could push his finger into the hair at the nape of Sherlock's neck, tugging softly.

Sherlock reciprocate his affections immediately, slamming John even further into the wall, two long arms around his waist, making it impossible for the shorter boy's feet to reach the floor. With a little yelp of surprise, John almost automatically wrapped his legs around the Alpha's own waist and squeezed, ignoring the fact that it was physically impossible to bring him closer still.

Hands roaming over the curly-haired boy's back, John smashed their mouths together again in a bruising kiss, more teeth than anything else. There was a sinful moan and it took him a moment to realise that he was the one making the noise.

Sherlock pulled back a little, eyes glassed over, and stared at John as if he couldn't really believe what they were doing either.

"Sherlock," was all John managed before his mouth was made use of again. The older teen growled into his mouth, two hands starting to work on the cord of John's pyjama bottoms, pushing them down ever so slightly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice kept screaming at John to take things slowly, reminding him that this was completely new to him, unfamiliar and more than a bit scary. That voice was beaten into submission, however, when the older boy sprawled his fingers over the Omega's hips, massaging sweet, arousing circles into his skin.

"John," Sherlock breathed and then his hands were on the blond's face, cupping it, caressing it. He moved, just a fraction, lining up their fast growing erections and John's heart skipped a beat. All he seemed able to do at this point was clutch at Sherlock's back and return the pressure of lips, take part in the dance of their tongues.

"John?"

The two boys practically jumped apart when they heard Ellie's voice travelling down the hall, footsteps growing closer. Their gazes met, eyes locked, and John's lips automatically curved up into a smile. After a moment, Sherlock mimicked the gesture before turning around and back to his experiment.

"John? What the hell is taking you so-" Ellie groaned as she walked into the sitting room, falling silent when she spotted her friend, still pressed against the wall, lips swollen and legs trembling.

John smiled at her, rather sheepishly. "I'll... I'll just, meet you back in your room, yeah?" he mumbled and quickly retreated, not meeting either of the sibling's eyes.

"You fucking didn’t!" Ellie snapped as soon as John was out of sight, glaring at her brother.

* * *

"Sit down."

Sherlock's body obediently followed the order, much to the boy's displeasure. He flopped down on the sofa, lower lip threatening to come out in a pout.

Ellie snorted and rolled her eyes at him, setting the first aid kit down by their feet. "Don't give me that adorable puppy look, it only ever works on Daddy."

Sherlock huffed, narrowing his eyes at the girl, but raised his hands over his head, allowing his sister to help him out of his shirt.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Lockie?" the younger sibling sighed sadly, kneeling down between his legs to inspect the bloody scratches Victor had left on his sides and abdomen. She carefully traced a finger along one of them, making the boy hiss in pain.

"You don't understand, Ellie, you're-" the older teen began, stunned into silence when the girl's hand collided with his cheek, leaving it searing and tingling.

"Shut up, Sherlock!" Ellie snapped, glaring up at him. "You're destroying yourself and for what? Another hit and a quick shag? _Victor?_ "

"I-"

"No, I'm not done," the girl interrupted again, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, averting her eyes away from her brother's face and back to the injuries. "Myc and Ford don't understand, they're different, _they function_ , despite everything. We don't, we're broken. We're too much like _him_ , you and me, we've got his temper, but we can't let that control our lives, Sherlock."

The older sibling had fallen silent, watching the emotions flicker over his sister's face. He was certainly glad she wasn't looking at him and couldn't see the guilt in his eyes. It would have been embarrassing.

"I need you, Lockie. I can't bear the thought of you not being here, I-" Ellie chocked on her words, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "You are killing yourself, Sherlock, and I swear to God, if you die, I won't know how to go on either."

Sherlock sighed, reaching for his sister's arm and pulling her up. "You are not supposed to worry about me. I should be the one who's too protective and overbearing," he said gently, winding his arms around Ellie, letting her snuggle against him.

"Don't go all older Alpha on me, you stupid cunt. Since when do you give a fuck about what's appropriate?" the girl chuckled into his chest, burying her face in her brother's neck, fists curling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

They sat in silence for several minutes, holding on to each other, each of them breathing the other in. Sibling bonds were complicated and not nearly sufficiently enough investigated as it was, but physical contact with clan members never failed to calm any of the Holmes children down. It helped to overcome any and all disagreements and make them understand each other's emotions and problems. Ellie enjoyed the especially strong connection the two youngest Holmeses shared, while Sherlock continually complained about the animalistic aspect of 'that whole damned Alpha hormone business'. Yet he never complained about or refused the contact with his sister - even though he'd never admit how much he cherished having such a deep connection with the younger girl.

"Please don't hurt John," Ellie whispered after a while, voice muffled against Sherlock's skin. "He's... special."

"Yes, he is," Sherlock agreed immediately, rather thrown back by his own honesty.

Ellie must have sensed his surprise, because she shot her brother a small smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek before getting up.

"Oh, and Sherlock?" she asked, turning back around in the door. "Dump Victor, he's a complete pillock."

* * *

The sun was just coming up, shining in through the crack in the curtain, dancing over John's face. The blond hummed contentedly and rolled onto his belly, burying his face in one of the soft pillows, enjoying the comfortable bliss of his not yet fully awake state.

He'd fallen asleep with the telly on in the background and Ellie sprawled out next to him on the bed, chatting and generally being silly. There had been a lack of awkward 'Oh my God, you snogged my brother!' comments on the part of the girl, which he was rather glad about. He didn't doubt for a second that she knew, but it seemed like she didn't feel the need to push the issue - another thing John was extremely happy about, since he still hadn't figured out what exactly was going on with him.

John had never even considered being attracted to another boy before. Not out of prejudice or any homophobic issues - his sister was gay, for fuck's sake! - it had simply never occurred to him. He'd always been popular with girls; cute, likeable, loyal John Watson. He himself, however, had never been particularly interested in the opposite sex. Sure, he'd had his share of kisses and then there had been this one time, at Bill's party, with Sarah. He'd been nervous and, if he was being honest with himself, a tad bit frightened at the prospect of being intimate with someone, causing the whole experience to be more uncomfortable and weird than anything else.

The thing with Sherlock had been completely different, though. Exciting, thrilling, arousing, wonderful and glorious. It could have been the other boy's Alpha scent and hormones, John reasoned, but the butterflies in his stomach begged to differ. Maybe he was-

Next to him, someone cleared their throat. John, very slowly, forced open an eye to peek at the visitor.

"Good morning, John," Mycroft said as a way of greeting, his expression unreadable.

The younger boy swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to pull the covers over his head and vanish. "Hey," he replied instead, smiling warily.

"Daddy did prepare the guest room for you, if I'm not mistaken," the eldest Holmes sibling continued and quirked an eyebrow, only making him appear all the more frightening.

John opened and closed his mouth a few times, not daring to say anything in fear of further angering the man.

Mycroft, seeing the genuine fear in his eyes, grinned at him for a moment before turning serious again, fixing him with a look John couldn't quite place.

"So, you're not going to have me killed or anything like that?" the blond asked, for a lack of anything better to say.

Mycroft snorted, amused. "Exactly what kind of rumours about me have been spread around your school?"

"I don't think you wanna know," John said, chuckling when the Alpha's expression stayed soft and open.

"John, there is one thing I must insist upon," Mycroft sighed after a moment, suddenly looking extremely grave again. John nodded shyly. "Do be cautious when _interacting_ with my brother. He can be rather-" Mycroft fidgeted with the hem of the blanket, obviously trying to find the right words. "He can be careless in his dealings with other people's emotions and feelings towards him."

The younger boy frowned and Mycroft smiled at him again, warmly and fondly, and got up, extending a hand to John. "Breakfast?"

A little bewildered by Mycroft's warning, John took the offered hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

"Where's Ellie?" he mused as he followed Mycroft to one of the house's many rooms, trying not to stall and marvel at what he considered luxury all around them.

There was a shadow flickering over Mycroft's face and he quickened his step, very obviously relieved when they reached their destination. He pushed open the huge double doors leading to what John recognised to be the master bedroom. His eyes immediately wandered to the enormous bed - no, really, that thing had to be at least three meters wide - and the Holmeses comfortably lounging around on mountains of plush pillows.

Calvin smiled brightly at them, propped up against the headboard, a tray with coffee and croissants balancing on his knees. "John, dear, come in, come in," he said cheerily, gesturing for his son and the other boy to join him.

The blond's jaw threatened to drop right to the floor and he stood rooted to the spot for a moment before carefully perching on the edge of the bed.

Ford grunted his greeting, eyes staying glued to the newspaper in his hands - a Swiss one, John noticed. Mycroft slid into bed next to his brother, gaze flickering over the article the younger boy was reading.

"Ah, die Börsenkurse haben sich erholt," the eldest sibling mused and Ford nodded, stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth.

John wasn't even surprised about the discussion in fluent German which followed and diverted his attention to Ellie, frowning as he properly looked at his friend. There were big, black bags under the girl's eyes and she looked dead tired, not appearing to have slept much the previous night. He was about to ask if she was okay when he caught Mycroft's eye and the Alpha shook his head.

 _'Huh, have to investigate later,'_ John though and wondered instead, "Isn't Sherlock having breakfast?"

Ford snorted, scowling at the paper. "Last time I saw him he was passed out over one of his experiments. Probably high as a kite, too."

"Lay off your brother, Rutherford," Calvin scolded, shooting his other son a stern look. Ford rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, but nodded. "Now, John, any preferences?" Daddy Holmes asked, turning back to the blond.

John cleared his throat - _'High as a kite? Drugs? Sherlock? What the fuck?'_ \- and let his eyes wander over the trays and plates spread all over the bed. "Is that salmon?" he gaped, spotting several slices of the red fish.

"Saffron cream or blue-cheese sauce?" Calvin smiled, delighted to see the boy's face light up at something so simple as a rich breakfast.

"Eh, both?" John grinned sheepishly, accepting the offered plate. The shocking revelations about his crush quickly forgotten, he began to dig in, intent on eating his way through every single dish in the room.

* * *

Sherlock woke up with a raging headache, a mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and - morning wood? _Really?_

The curly-haired boy groaned, letting his head fall back onto the table. His body was acting without his brain's permission a lot lately and Sherlock found that more than a bit irritating and even more annoying. He'd trained himself, built up his self-control to prevent unwanted reactions, to suppress his natural Alpha instincts. An effort which seemed to have been for naught when it came to John.

_John!_

Sherlock had very carefully avoided thinking about the blond after their 'encounter' last night, focussing on his experiment instead. During sleep, however, he'd had far less control over his thoughts, the evidence to that uncomfortably hard between his legs.

"Bloody traitor," the boy mumbled, glaring at his erection and getting up, making his way to the bathroom. He was going to have a pee, ignore the fact that he was painfully aroused, get himself a drink and then crawl into his bed and stay there, preferably for the remainder of the weekend.

He'd managed to will away his arousal by the time he was on his way back to his own room. Soft snoring from his parents' bedroom made him stop in his tracks and frown. Sherlock knew the sounds, noises and smells of his family through their bonds and none of them ever did something as pedestrian as _snore_. Which could only mean that-

Quiet as a mouse, the dark-haired boy pushed at the double doors, peeking inside the room. As suspected, the rest of the Holmes clan - minus Aldéric, of course - was napping peacefully, as was their custom weekend morning ritual. His sister was all over the place, limbs sprawled away from her body, half covered by a blanket, one leg dangling off the edge of the mattress. Mycroft and Ford were slumped against each other, the younger brother's face nuzzled into the elder's neck, hands curled into the redhead's shirt. Mycroft had his arms around his brother, face buried in Ford's long, tousled hair.

Grinning wickedly, Sherlock fished out his mobile and snapped a few pictures. There would definitely come a time when he could use some blackmail material against the two of them - or just use the photos to tease them about their lack of the usual Holmes grace during sleep. Yes, Sherlock was very aware of the fact that physical contact between clan members was important and normal in Alpha and Omega families, but it was definitely not beneath him to make fun of his brothers for cuddling.

Pocketing his phone, Sherlock's eyes finally wandered to the person who'd caused him to sneak into the room in the first place. John, indeed the one making the soft, cute - _'Cute? What the hell is wrong with me?'_ \- sounds, had curled himself against Calvin's side, head resting on the man's chest. Calvin, in return, had his arms wrapped around the blond, pulling him as close as humanly possible, absently caressing the boy's neck.

Not realising he was doing it, the youngest Holmes son began to move until he was standing on his Daddy's side of the bed, staring down at the man and John. It was bewildering to see his parent cuddling John and he crunched up his face in confusion. While Calvin was a charming, loving and warm person towards his children and husband, even though the twat didn't deserve it, he never dared to touch anyone outside their clan without Aldéric's explicit approval. The man was fiercely jealous and protective, which was utterly ridiculous, given the fact that he himself entertained several lovers, and Calvin had learned that the hard way.

 _'It must be an Omega thing,'_ Sherlock thought, startled to find himself suddenly sitting on the bed, one hand reaching out to John. He quickly withdrew it and scowled at it. His pride told him to get up and leave, but instead he fully crawled onto the bed, lowering himself down behind the blond boy. Slowly, he lifted a hand, placing it on John's belly, drawing the other boy closer until-

"Delete those pictures."

Sherlock jolted back, glaring at his brother. "Sod off, Mycroft," he hissed and was about to get up when John stirred and grabbed his wrist, effectively keeping him in place.

* * *

_"Sod off, Mycroft."_

John stirred, the new voice washing over him in a most soothing way. But then the warmth that had been pressed against his back began to move and the boy's sleepy mind panicked and his hand shot out, taking hold of the first thing within reach.

"Sherlock," John mumbled, turning away from Calving to snuggle against the older boy, sneaking his arms around the slim waist and nuzzling his face into the warm, firm chest. "Mm," he hummed happily when, after a moment of hesitation, Sherlock weaved a hand through his hair, the other wandering to John's back, urging him closer.

"John," the curly-haired boy whispered and the blond smiled, drifting back off to sleep.


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a bit of help figuring things out. Oh, and his mum is a total bitch.

** Confessions **

When John woke up properly around mid-day, Calvin, Sherlock and Ellie were gone, leaving the blond with the two oldest Holmes siblings.

"Good morning, sunshine," Ford grinned slyly before huddling closer to his brother, whispering quietly.

John rubbed at his eyes and yawned, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"Sleep well?" Mycroft asked, wearing a concerned expression and quirking an eyebrow.

"Erm, yeah, thanks," the blond said, eyeing them suspiciously. "Something wrong?"

The brothers shared another glance and Ford stood, stretched and, with a wink at John, left the room to 'go and take a piss'.

"John, how much do you know about Alpha and Omega mating?" Mycroft wanted to know, causing the boy to blush furiously. Talking about this with Ellie, a friend, was one thing. Having scary, all-business and no fun Mycroft pressing the issue was just awkward.

"A bit. Why?"

The redhead sighed and crossed his legs, fixing John with a pointed look. "You really should be having this talk with one of your parents."

"What talk? Are you- oh my God, are we going to have _the talk?_ " John groaned, horrified, face burning red.

"Well, it certainly seems necessary, given the lack of-"

"Just, no! Okay?" the teen interrupted, hands covering his ears. "I know all about the birds and the bees, yeah? No need to... to talk about _that_."

"So you are aware of the fact that both Ellie and Sherlock could have easily marked you as their mate last night?" Mycroft demanded, receiving his answer in the form of a shocked gasp.

"They _what?_ "

"Honestly, this is ridiculous," the eldest Holmes sibling huffed, slightly annoyed. "It's highly irresponsible of your parents not to inform you about such matters."

John, playing with the cord of his pyjama pants, refused to look at Mycroft when he spoke again. "My dad left when I was eight and died a year later. My mum hasn't been around much since and my sister, well, you know, we don't have the best relationship. And anyway, they're all Betas, they don't know shit about these things. Mum totally freaked out on me when we found out I was an Omega."

"Oh."

Something in Mycroft's voice had changed and John dared to sneak a peek at the older man, who was smiling at him understandingly.

"There is no Omega in your immediate family?"

"Nope." The blond shook his head. "There was my great-gram, but she died when I was three or four. I hardly remember anything."

A wave of sadness washed through the young Omega and before he knew what was happening, Mycroft had an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Which seemed to be equally startling for Mycroft as it was for John.

"Apologies," the redhead murmured and tensed, embarrassed. "Instincts, I'm afraid."

John shrugged a bit, snuggling against the older Alpha, closing his eyes. "'s fine," he mumbled, wondering just why the hell it was fine. _'Pheromones,'_ his brain provided and the Omega part of him hummed happily.

He almost whimpered when Mycroft moved back, staring up at the taller man with wide eyes.

Mycroft smiled a little before clearing his throat. "As I was saying, you have to be careful when dealing with Alphas in a sexual way." John scrunched up his nose, but the other continued on relentlessly. "I take it you are on heat suppressants and birth control?"

The blond nodded weakly, wondering if red was going to become the new permanent colour of his face.

"That's... good, I suppose," Mycroft continued, looking just as uncomfortable as John felt. "Alphas and Omegas can enter a partnership with one another, become each other's mates. For such a bond to be made, the Alpha marks the Omega as his or hers."

John's trembling hand shot up to the love bite on his neck. "You mean..."

"I take it there was no blood? My siblings should be responsible enough not to bond at such a young age. Not everyone is, though."

The young Omega shook his head. "No blood, just... kissing and... biting? Oh my God!" he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

There was a strong hand squeezing John's shoulder as Mycroft began talking again. "Ellie and Sherlock are a lot of things, most of them annoying, but believe me when I tell you that they would never take advantage of you in such a way, John."

John took a shaky breath and nodded. "What happens if an Omega is marked?"

Mycroft pursed his lips. "They belong to the Alpha, physically, emotionally as well as legally. In every sense of the word, really. The Alpha becomes fiercely protective and extremely jealous, often rather controlling and demanding as well."

"Thanks for the warning, I guess," the younger boy chuckled weakly, running a hand through his hair.

"Not a problem," the Alpha smiled, admittedly still a bit uneasy. "There is no reason for you not to enjoy yourself, John. As long as you remember your suppressants and birth control and use proper prote-"

"Yeah, right, fine. Thanks, Mycroft," John spluttered, jumping up from the bed. "No biting and stuff, I get it."

"Good," Mycroft said, getting up as well. They stood, staring at each other for an awkward few seconds before the older boy smiled tightly and quickly vanished out of the room.

John groaned, hiding behind his hands once again.

* * *

"-not healthy, darling."

John stopped, one hand on the door handle. _'Eavesdropping on Ellie seems to become a habit,'_ he mused a little sheepishly.

"What am I supposed to do? Stop sleeping altogether?" the girl complained through a sigh, then casually added, "John, you can come in, you know."

"How do you do that?" the blond demanded, sliding into the kitchen and pulling himself up on the bar stool next to Ellie, who leaned over to peck him on the cheek, grinning smugly.

"I can smell you, you daft idiot."

"Language, Ellie," Calvin tutted, busy with the dishes from their breakfast. Ellie pulled a face and poked her tongue out at his back.

John sniggered at his friend before remembering how ill she'd looked in the morning. Add to that the snippet of conversation he'd just heard and the young Omega was seriously worried. "You okay?" he asked, running his eyes over the girl.

"Fine, just nightmares," Ellie said, waving his concerns aside.

"Night _terrors_ , sweetheart," Calvin corrected, causing his daughter to glare at him.

"Well, maybe if that _fucking prick_ would stay away, the dreams would too!" she snapped, almost kicking over her chair in her haste to get away.

John stared after the girl, wide eyed, before turning a questioning gaze at Calvin.

The older Omega sighed, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. "Sorry about that, John," he apologised, shooting the boy a little smile.

"No worries, 's fine," John shrugged, hesitating before speaking again. "May I ask you something? It's a bit personal, but..." he trailed off, blushing and looking at the man sheepishly.

"Ask away," Calvin smiled, sitting down at the bar opposite the younger Omega.

"Okay, so... I've noticed that your children, Ellie especially, they don't really like their dad, do they? Their _other_ dad, I mean."

Calvin pursed his lips, eyes suddenly sad, a pained expression on his face.

John, fearing that he'd gone too far, mentally kicked himself and cursed, trying to come up with a suitable apology.

"I'm afraid the situation is rather complicated," Calvin began, running a hand through his hair with a tired sigh.

"Mycroft told me about marking," John continued, a bit bolder. Calvin Holmes, as the only other Omega he knew, was his best chance to get some answers. And John suddenly had a lot of questions.

"Ah, I see," Calvin chuckled, absently moving a hand to stroke over the faint scar on his own neck. "What would you like to know, dear?"

The blond opened his mouth, dozens of things floating around his head, just waiting to get out and be discussed. But one little thing pushed to the front, nagging John, begging to be answered. "How old are you?"

Calvin seemed surprised by that particular question, but answered nonetheless. "Thirty-nine, almost forty."

"Mycroft's twenty-five, meaning that when you got pregnant with him, you were-"

"Just short of turning fifteen," the older Omega finished, realising where John was going.

"Wow, that's... you were _really_ young," John gasped, scratching a hand through his sandy hair. "Is it... has your... did you choose your husband yourself?"

"No."

"So what, you were, like, set up? By your family?"

"Mm, me and my siblings, yes," Calving nodded, studying John's face carefully.

"Why?" the boy frowned, chest clenching painfully. He was turning seventeen soon, were he in Calvin's place, his first child would be almost two already. Which was... no, just _no_. John shook his head and blinked rapidly.

"It is tradition in many of the old families to marry away their Omega offspring to well-known, financially situated Alpha heirs."

"How old is your husband?" John barely dared to ask.

"Sixty-four."

There was a pause as John did the math, nervously tapping his fingers on the bar. "He... he isn't good to you, is he? You or Ellie or the others?"

"No, he is not," Calvin agreed, watching the boy's reaction with sorrow-filled eyes.

"But why don't you leave?" John practically shouted, frantic. All this, the information about the other three Holmes boys who'd never had a chance to live, Ellie's bad dreams, the sibling's obvious distaste for their father, the forced marriage, what he interpreted as not fully consensual child making and bearing - the boy couldn't process it and pressed his eyes shut, face buried in his hands.

"I can't," the older Omega explained, reaching out to stroke a soothing hand over the boy's cheek. "I have legal obligations, I am owned. Aldéric and I are bonded, emotionally and physically, leaving him would pull me apart. I am responsible for my children, their well-being is my utmost priority. Leaving is impossible, it is not an option."

"This is bullshit!" John choked out, surprised to find tears starting to spill and run down his cheeks. "I don't want that, any of that. It's horrible!"

"Come here," Calvin urged softly, holding out his arms and John crashed into the man, burying his face in the soft fabric of his pullover, sobbing and shivering violently while the older Omega whispered calming words, stroking a firm hand up and down the blond's back.

"I'm... so-... I'm sorry," John managed between sobs, fists curled into Calvin's clothes. "You're so nice and... warm and wonderful and... shit, I don't even know, but you don't deserve this."

"John," Calvin cupped the boy's cheek, lifting his head. "You are a strong, smart and independent young man. The world isn't what it used to be, dear. You have every right to make your own decisions, to choose your career and your mate. Never stop fighting for the things you want."

"M'kay," the blond mumbled, basking in the soothing scent of the adult Omega.

"Naturally, I'd be delighted if you chose one of my cubs, but, to be honest, they're all a bit mad," Calvin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, all the while pressing kisses into the distraught boy's hair.

John snorted, snuggling further into the man, who in turn tightened his hold on the young Omega.

* * *

"Ellie?!"

The girl grunted her acknowledgement and John stepped into the room, carefully closing the door behind himself.

The redhead was buried under a mountain of pillows and blankets, but she struggled out of her cocoon as soon as John's scent hit her.

"What's wrong?" Ellie demanded, taking in the boy's red-rimmed eyes, dishevelled hair and slumped shoulders.

John hesitated, sniffing the air. Ellie's own scent was still present, but there was a new, underlying something. "You... you smell sad and angry? Worried? How is that even...?" the blond murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

On the bed, Ellie smiled and threw back the covers, inviting John to join her. "You smell scared and gloomy," she stated, wrapping long limbs around the smaller boy, nuzzling against his cheek.

"Why do _you_ know that about _me_? Why do _I_ know that about _you_?" the teen frowned, feeling himself relax against the girl, words such as 'safe', 'protected' and 'home' swirling around his head. He reached up, weaving a hand through Ellie's red curls, causing her to purr and tighten the arms around him.

"It's in my nature to protect and care for any Omega, so the closer we are, the easier it becomes for me to read you, through your smell, gestures, sounds and all."

John nodded his understanding, inhaling deeply, the strong Alpha scent surrounding him like a guarding wall. "And I, as an Omega, have it in my nature to comfort and nurture, yeah? So, same principle; the better I know you, or any other Alpha, the easier it will get to identify what they're feeling?"

"Mm, exactly," Ellie mumbled against his neck, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, bathing in the soothing Omega pheromones.

"That is _so_ weird," John commented after a moment and the girl giggled.

"Yeah, it really is, isn't it?" Ellie smiled, moving her nose along his neck, suddenly scrunching up her face. "You reek of my brother," she teased, laughing when John's face burned bright red.

"I hate you," the blond grumbled, kicking the girl under the covers.

"No, you don't."

"Shut up."

They fell asleep, cuddled close together, Aldéric Holmes and his problem causing ways forgotten for the moment.

* * *

"Are you _really_ sure that you can't stay another night?" Ellie whined, sitting on the front steps with John, waiting for their driver to take the boy back home.

"Yeah, sorry," John sighed, leaning his head against the girl's shoulder. "I have football practice today and a match tomorrow. Plus homework and-"

"Skip the homework, it's rubbishy and dull anyway."

"Not everyone's a bloody genius, you know," the blond chuckled, turning his head a little to press a kiss to Ellie's temple. "Besides, you'll see me at school on Monday, I'm fairly sure you'll survive until then."

"But I'll be bored," the girl groaned dramatically and huffed.

"You've got three brothers, go an annoy one of them," John suggested and Ellie smirked evilly, but was interrupted before she could answer.

_"John!"_

The two teenagers frowned, their eyes snapping up to the French windows of the sitting room just as they flew open. Without hesitation, Ford jumped over the balcony rail and into the flowerbed - and not for the first time, if the footprints and poor state of the flowers were anything to go by.

"John, I've-" the older Holmes sibling began, only to be interrupted by Calvin's sharp, angry voice coming from the open kitchen window.

"Rutherford Beal Holmes, what the _bloody_ hell did I tell you about ruining my flowers? Use the damn door like the rest of us!"

Utterly unimpressed, Ford merely rolled his eyes and turned back to the young Omega. "Here, I figured you could use them after the confusing weekend you’ve had," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows at the uncomprehending teen.

Puzzled, John took the offered paper bag, peeked inside and blushed a dark red.

"John?" Ellie asked and reached into the bag herself, producing the latest issue of the 'Playboy'. Grinning, she continued to dig, finding several magazines ranging from strictly vanilla to something fairly less vanilla, from heterosexual to gay with everything in between.

"What-" John managed, quickly throwing the magazines back into the bag.

"I thought they might help you to figure things out," Ford grinned and winked at the flustered blond. "Don't tell Mycroft, though, he has no idea that I went through his and Greg's stash. _Yet._ "

Ellie pouted. "You never give me porn to help me figure out my sexuality."

"Tough luck, little one," Ford shrugged and poked out his tongue just as the car pulled up beside them.

"See you on Monday," the girl smiled, pulling John into a quick hug before darting up the steps and into the house.

Ford seemed confused for a moment before his eyes went wide. "Just because I gave John some magazines doesn't mean _you_ get to snoop through my stuff!" He quickly ran after the girl, catching up with her in the hall and sending them both flying to the ground.

An annoyed _"For the love of God!"_ from Calvin was the last thing John heard as he closed the car door behind himself.

* * *

John felt ridiculous. No, more than that. The whole situation was completely absurd.

Taking a deep breath, the blond emptied the contents of his bag of porn - which he had named it _almost_ without giggling like an idiot - onto his bed and reached for the first magazine.

He managed to get to page five before shutting it and tossing it to the floor. Middle-aged women with big, no scratch that, with _huge_ breast definitely weren't his cup of tea. The second, third and fourth magazines suffered the same fate; teenage lesbians, old men groping their maids and a straight couple doing it missionary style didn't really do anything for him either.

Slightly annoyed with himself, John grabbed another magazine, the one with blokes in uniforms. This time, he got caught up fairly quickly, eyes darting over toned bodies, six-packs, cheekbones, hands, feet - basically everything.

It took the young Omega several minutes to realise that he was sporting an erection. "Seriously?" he groaned, shutting the magazine and flopping back on his bed. "Are you telling me it took me sixteen bloody years to figure out that I might prefer blokes?"

His body, unsurprisingly, didn't have an answer to that.

Closing his eyes, John tried to recall situations that could, or rather should, have given him a clue. He had never been attracted to any of his female friends or the women on the telly, but he'd just figured himself to be a late bloomer. The few kisses he'd shared with Mary and Sarah had all been initiated by them, never by him. They had been nice, sure, but nothing special, nothing at all compared to Sherlock's kisses. He got even harder just thinking about the curly-haired teen and whimpered, reaching for a pillow and draping it over his head.

He needed more clues to be sure and there was only one way; examine his first and only sexual encounter with another person. Sarah had been lovely and cute and nice, but if she hadn't pushed him, John would have done nothing to bring their relationship to the next level. The sex itself had been okay, but extremely embarrassing and he'd been relieved afterwards. And then he'd broken up with Sarah a few days later, unable to do _it_ again. Imagining _it_ with a bloke, or Sherlock, however...

With a defeated sigh, John sat back up and reached for the one interesting magazine again. "Needing a friend's brothers to figure out my sexuality. Only me," he huffed, flipped to the page with the pale, dark-haired police officer - who did _so_ not resemble Sherlock - and opened his trousers.

Later, lying on his bed, panting, John tried the words for the first time. "I'm gay."

Yeah, that actually fit pretty well. A smile tugged at the boy's lips. But now came the hard part; telling people. And he wanted to tell people, because John Watson was not going to hide such a big part of his life just because some people might not like it. They could just go fuck themselves, as much as he was concerned.

* * *

John stared at his Geometry homework, the numbers and shapes all mixing together into an unrecognisable tangle of black ink on white paper. The fingers of his left hand were curled around a pencil, threatening to break the fragile piece of wood in two. He wiped his free hand over his forehead. It came away covered in sweat. Why was this so damn hard? This was supposed to be the easiest one!

"John!" Ellie's voice was impatient, shaking the boy from his thoughts."Your daydreaming is starting to get on my nerves."

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, swirling her own pen between thumb and forefinger. "Can I borrow your compass? Mine's rubbish."

"I'm gay," John blurted out, eyes going wide at his own bluntness. Well, so much for finesse.

"That's lovely, but it doesn't answer my question," Ellie sighed, holding out her hand and quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, right. Yeah. Sure, here you go," he stammered, shoving the requested item across the table. Ellie gave him a quick nod and went back to her own studies.

That was not a reaction John had expected. Actually, that was no real reaction at all. He couldn't help himself, he felt a little gutted at his friend's disinterest in something that had taken him a fairly great amount of nerves and courage to come to terms with.

"John?"

"What?" the boy asked, a bit harsher than intended. But he was upset, so she just had to deal with that right now.

Ellie said nothing, simply grabbing his hand and pulling him closer, pressing a soft, quick kiss to his lips before going back to her homework.

And just like that, John knew everything was all right between them and smiled.

* * *

"Oh, _come on!_ " Bill yelled at the telly, spilling half of the popcorn from the bowl on to the floor.

"Watch it, wanker," John grumbled, pushing his at his friend's leg. Bill shot him an evil grin, dropping another handful of the puffy white grains down on the carpet. John punched him in the shoulder.

"Oi! That hurt!"

"Stop messing around, I hate cleaning."

"But the referee's being an idiot," Bill complained, gesturing at the man in black and white as he began to pout.

John had Bill staying over for the weekend since his mother was off somewhere with some bloke called Nigel. And only God knew where Harry spent her nights, but she wouldn't rat on him. She owed him, more than one. So the two boys did what they always did when they had the house to themselves, namely eat a sick amount of junk food, drink Holly's beer and watch football. Spending quality time with his best mate was something John held very dear, the two of them practically having grown up together. Which made the thought that their friendship could soon be over, or at least different than before, all the more painful.

"You know what Sally told me?"

"Why were you talking to Sally?" John frowned, wrinkling his nose. He couldn't stand the girl. Arrogant cow.

"She's friends with Collin, who knows Rob, who happens to be the cousin of Flynn, my brother's best friend. They were all at Rory's party last week, the one you couldn't go to because your mum threw one of her weird angry fits?"

"What did Sally tell you?" John sighed and Bill smirked.

"Angela fancies me."

"Who's Angela?"

It was Bill's turn to sigh. "Collin's sister?"

John had no idea who either of them were, so he just went along and nodded.

"Anyway, gave me her number and everything!" Bill beamed expectantly.

"That's, uhm, great?"

"Damn right it is! That girl is fit!"

"Whatever you say."

Bill's face fell. "You know, I was expecting a little more enthusiasm, some congratulations, maybe a little party to celebrate my impending victory in scoring one of the hottest girls in school."

"Congratulations, you're the women whisperer, seducer of beautiful maidens all across the land," John said mockingly and Bill kicked his feet.

"What about you?"

"What about me what?" John asked innocently.

"You dating anyone? Fancying anyone? Shagging anyone? You never tell me anything," Bill pouted again, resting his head on his friend's shoulder, blinking up at him.

Well, that was his chance, wasn't it? John took a deep breath before he began to talk. "I, erm, have been kinda snogging someone. But just the one time!"

Now he had Bill's undivided attention. "Who was she? Was it Sarah? I bet was Sarah!"

"It wasn't Sarah," John chuckled nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. "And I can't tell you who it was either."

"No fair," Bill groaned, but John firmly shook his head. "All right, fine. Give me a hint."

"I really can't. I'm not sure if he'd be okay with me talking about it."

Bill opened his mouth for further protest, but clammed it shut when the use of the male pronoun sunk in. "He?" he asked instead, eyeing John cautiously.

"Yep."

"Are you... I mean you never... _shit_ , John, I had no idea!"

"Well, neither had I, to be perfectly honest," John laughed, slightly hysterical. He couldn't meet Bill's eyes and they fell into an awkward silence.

"John?"

"What?"

"When you said you didn't know if he wanted you to talk about it-" Bill began, only to interrupt himself. John finally looked up, surprised to see his friend's face stricken with concern. "Is he good to you?"

John's face flushed a dark shade of red and he buried it in his hands. "Bill!"

"I mean it, John. If he's telling you to keep it a secret, maybe he's-"

"It was one kiss, all right? Nothing more. And we didn't have a chance to talk about it yet, that's why I don't know what it meant."

"Well, what did it mean to _you_?"

Right at this moment, John hated his best friend for being the good, caring person he was. "I'm not sure."

Bill barked out a laugh. "You are such a terrible liar. Always have been."

"Thank you," John sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You fancy him," Bill stated.

"Yes," John admitted with a defeated sigh. He knew Bill wouldn't give up until he had the truth squeezed out of him anyway. There was another silence, more than enough time for John's brain to start imagining all the worst scenarios his confession could have; Bill walking out and not wanting anything more to do with him, Bill telling someone, Bill telling everyone, Bill-

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you snogged someone, like, the moment it happened? As your best friend, I'm entitled to such information and it's a violation of intergalactic friendship law not to tell me all the hot, juicy details!"

John's eyes snapped up and he saw Bill grinning at him. Maybe the world wasn't ending just yet.

* * *

"Rose. Definitely Rose!"

"Your taste is horrible," Bill decided.

Dimmock glared at him. "Fine. Who do you think was the hottest companion ever?"

"Either Sarah-Jane or Amy. No, definitely Amy! Us gingers have to stick together."

"Amy's not bad, I guess. But Rose is way hotter," Dimmock grinned, looking at John. "Seems like we need you to settle this."

John and Bill shared a glance over the table and the latter shrugged as if to say _'Your choice, mate!'_

"Jack."

Dimmock looked dumbstruck, which Bill - naturally - found incredibly hilarious, earning himself a punch to the arm.

"So, have you ever sucked someone's cock?" Dimmock wondered out loud a moment later and John groaned, burying his face in his arms. Bill kept on laughing.

Sometimes he wasn't sure if he hated or loved his friends.

* * *

After being questioned about his non-existent sex life by Dimmock, John was silently begging for Mike not to make a huge fuss.

"Mike, there's something I need to tell you."

The other boy looked up from his book, shoving his glasses back on his nose. "Oh?"

"I like blokes."

"Seriously? I would've put my money on you and Ellie. You're almost joined at the hip."

"Well, you'd have lost that money," John shrugged and smiled shyly.

"Good thing I didn't bet, then," Mike smiled back before turning his attention back to the process of meiosis.

 _'Thank fuck for the one sane person in my circle of friends!'_ John thought with a relieved chuckle.

* * *

The debate whether or not to tell his family had been long and tiresome. John remembered only too vividly how his mother had reacted to Harry's coming out four years ago. There had been an awful lot of shouting, crying and smashing plates. Somehow he got the feeling that her second child outing himself wouldn't go down too well with Holly Watson either. On the other hand, he absolutely did not want to hide from his own family, the people who were supposed to love, support and protect him no matter what.

In the end, John decided to have a chat with his sister. Surely she would be most amenable, she had once been in the same situation after all.

"Harry?" John asked hesitantly, softly knocking at the girl's bedroom door.

"Piss off!"

Well, they were off to a good start, then. "Harry, there's something I need to talk to you about." Harry groaned in annoyance. "It's really kind of important."

His sister sighed, but he could hear her get up and the door was yanked open a few moments later. "What?" she barked, glaring at the boy.

"Can I come in?"

"If you insist," Harry grumbled, stepping aside to let him pass.

John perched himself on the edge of the bed, nervously running a hand through the hair on the back of his head.

Harry tilted her head and frowned down at him. "Johnny, are you okay? Did something happen?"

The boy smiled. Despite everything - the alcohol, the sleeping around, the fighting - Harry hadn't changed completely. She was still his sister, his big, protective sister who'd once punched Simon Harris in the face for making John cry in third grade.

"Recently I've noticed that, erm, I kind of prefer... that I'm not very interested in girls. Like, not at all," he stuttered and then groaned, rubbing his face and falling down on the mattress. That really could have been said a little smoother. He felt Harry sit down next to him and opened one eye.

"Have you told mum yet?"

"God no!"

"Good, that's good," Harry sighed and lay down as well, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on one hand.

"Do you think I should tell her?"

Harry bit her lip. "It's your decision, Johnny. But can I give a word of advice?" John nodded. "I wish I wouldn't have told her."

"It feels wrong to lie to her," the boy admitted, biting his own lower lip.

Harry was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Whatever happens, know that I'm here for you, yeah?"

"Thanks, sis," John smiled, moving closer to his sister, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Anytime, Johnny," Harry smiled back, pulling her baby brother into a comforting hug.

* * *

To say John was surprised to see what appeared to be half of his belongings scattered around the Watson front yard would have been a severe understatement. His mum had a tendency to reorganise the house when she got bored, but, until now, she'd always avoided John and Harry's rooms. And she'd never done it at eleven o'clock in the evening.

Frowning, John moved closer to inspect the mess; most of his clothes on a heap in their porch, his posters, his CDs and DVDs, some of his books and-

The blond went white when he spotted it, the one magazine he hadn't thrown out, the one with the uniforms. With shaking hands, he picked up the note sticking to it.

_'John,_

_Guess who I met at the store today? Maggie Stamford. She came up to me, congratulating me and telling me how happy she was for you. Now, you can imagine how confused I was. Well, she must have seen it too, because she continued to explain that many people didn't figure out their sexuality until much later and that it must be a huge relief to know already. I didn't believe her, of course. My little Johnny, a fairy? No, I told her that she must be confusing you with someone else, but she was so sure._

_I checked your room as soon as I got home, and I must say, John, I'm extremely disappointed in you. First that Omega nonsense and now, on top of that, you're gay?_

_I was a good mother, John, I don't deserve this. Why are you doing this to your family? Why do you keep disappointing and punishing us? It's because you want to be special, isn't it? You cannot stand to be a normal teenage boy, oh no, you have to go and become a filthy, disgusting queer!_

_Well, I won't stand for that. As you can see, your things are on the porch. Take them and leave, go stay with some of your disgusting poof friends. I changed the locks, so don't waste your energy trying to come in._

_If you change your ways, I'm willing to talk, but until then I don't have a son._

_And don't come running back to me when you catch one of those gay diseases, because I warned you, John!_

_Holly'_

John had to read the note three times before the message sunk in. His mum had found out about him being gay, thrown him out of their home and completely washed her hands off him over the course of only a few hours. With a choked sob, the teenager stormed up the four steps to the front door, digging in his pocket for the keys. He raised one shaky hand to the lock, but it wouldn't fit.

"Mum?" the blond asked, taking a few steps back to be able to see his mother's bedroom window. The lights were still on. "Mum, please, let me in!"

Holly's only answer was to close the curtains.

Utterly defeated, John fell to his knees in the middle of the yard, tears starting to sting at the corners of his eyes. Half the neighbourhood was gathering around him, but John couldn't find it in himself to care about them staring, whispering and pointing.

"Mum? Please! I'm sorry! Mum?" he pleaded, unable to believe that his mother would actually do something this heartless to her own child. She'd been cruel before, but this, _this_ was a whole new level.

With a strangled sob, he buried his face in his hands. This couldn't be happening. Maybe, if he concentrated hard enough, he'd wake up and-

The teen's eyes instantly snapped up to the front door when he heard the lock click. Relieved, he jumped up and took the few steps towards the house, only to find himself dripping wet mere moments later.

"What the fuck?" John exclaimed, surprised and irritated, blinking furiously.

"I told you to stay away," Holly hissed, bucket in hand. "This is no longer your home. You father would be ashamed if he were still around,” she spat and, possibly for good measure, threw the bucket at her son as well before slamming the door shut.

 _'That's it,'_ the young Omega thought, sitting down on the steps. He didn't even try to hold back the tears anymore, crying, sniffling and sobbing freely, watching as one spectator after the other left now that the show was over. In this neighbourhood, no one gave a fuck if a sixteen year old boy got thrown out on the street by his family. No one cared about anything, unless there was some way to make a profit out of it.

Somehow, although he didn't know how exactly, John managed to calm himself down enough to get out his mobile, only to realise that he had no idea whom to call. The police were out of the question, there was no way in hell he was going back to his mother or, even worse, some sort of shelter. Bill's parents were total fuck-ups, making being homeless actually sound kind of appealing. Mike and Dimmy were away this week, on an excursion John couldn't afford, because his mum hadn't given him any pocket money in ages.

_Ellie!_

The blond quickly typed in the girl's number, praying that she was still awake. He groaned when it switched to voicemail, but left a message nevertheless.

_"Hey, Ellie. It's me, John. On the off chance that you're still awake and just haven't heard your phone, please call me back. It's really important. If not, well, see you, I guess."_

He pocketed the phone again before wrapping his arms around his knees, bringing them up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. It was freezing, a typical cold November night, he was wet and all his clothes were, too, and he was shivering violently, having spent the best part of the last hour outside on the lawn. He was homeless, had no money and nowhere to go.

John normally wasn't one to feel sorry for himself, he was a fighter, but this was just too much for any teenager to handle. And so John wept, feeling absolutely miserable.

* * *

"John?"

The blond nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched his knee. Disorientated, he blinked the tears away, trying to make sense of the situation, not even remembering falling asleep in the first place. "Mycroft?"

"What happened?" the redhead asked, absently reaching out and stroking a hand through the boy's hair.

John leaned into the touch, glad about the contact, and handed the Alpha the letter. This time, he did whimper when Mycroft pulled back, and curled himself up into a ball, shivering and shaking violently.

"Gregory?" Mycroft called after a moment and was joined by a second man, brown hair and warm eyes, another Alpha, going by the scent. "John, you need to get up."

"No, go 'way," the blond murmured, waving a hand at the Holmes, too exhausted to do anything more. For all John cared, he'd keep lying here until...well, just until. It didn't matter anyway.

"Hey, John, right?"

The teen managed to open one eye, staring at the other man, Gregory.

"I'm going to carry you, don't panic, yeah?"

John nodded and Gregory stepped closer, easily lifting the small Omega up, settling him against his chest. Mycroft led the way and opened the car door, allowing Gregory to put John in the back, and put his own jacket over the frozen boy. John hummed happily, drifting off to sleep almost instantly in the warmth that surrounded him now.

The next time John woke up, the car was moving and something soft and warm supported his head. A hand was placed on his neck, fingers were running through his hair.

"Mycroft?"

"Sleep, John," the older man soothed, never ceasing his movements.

Sighing, John nuzzled at the fabric of Mycroft's jeans, letting the Alpha scents lull him back into unconsciousness until-

"Mycroft?"

"Mm?"

"You're not wearing a suit."

In the driver's seat, Gregory snorted and began to chuckle.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually wear a suit twenty-four-seven," Mycroft sniffed, mock offended.

"You totally would if I'd let you," Gregory grinned, earning himself a slap to the back of the head and a half annoyed, half bemused "Do shut up, Gregory!"

John managed a weak smile before sleep took over again.


	5. The Next Logical Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's basically homeless. And Sherlock is surprisingly good at comforting people. If they are the right people AKA John.

** The Next Logical Step **

John shot up, panting heavily, and looked around the unfamiliar room, still disorientated and dizzy from sleep.

After a moment, the previous evening's events came flooding back and he groaned, lying back down and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. The ride from his - no, not his anymore, his mum's - house to the Holmes manor was all fuzzy around the edges. He remembered Mycroft and Gregory talking softly, the redhead constantly caressing his head and rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe the distraught Omega. Someone, possibly Gregory, carrying him up the stairs to the guest room and tucking him in. Which was a little bit embarrassing, now that he thought about it.

How in heaven's name Mycroft had found him in the first place, John wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

Yawning, the teenager craned his neck to see the alarm clock. Shortly before four in the morning. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, nuzzling at one of the pillows. He was homeless, broke and had probably caught a cold, if his clogged up nose and sore throat were anything to go by. Like he needed _that_ on top of everything else.

Like, where was he supposed to stay? He didn't have any relatives apart from the ones who'd kicked him out. Going to a shelter was a pretty crappy option too, he'd heard a lot of horror stories from Bill and Rory, who went from one institution to the next, spending more time there than at home with their parents. Mike's flat was too small, the boy already shared a room with his younger brother. Mrs Stamford would probably take him in, but three teenage blokes in one room? John wasn't sure his friendship would survive that in the long run. Dimmock's place was out of the question as well, with his parents going through a nasty divorce and all.

 _'Maybe I can stay here for a bit?'_ John mused, smiling a little at the prospect of living with the Holmes family. Not for long though, just until he was settled. The thought of being a burden to anyone made his stomach turn.

But even if he found a place, how was he supposed to pay for it? The only money he had were the five pounds in his back pocket. He would need to get a job, work a bit after school. Which posed another problem; Hollow Oak was expensive, even with his studentship. He winced at the thought of having to change schools, leave behind his friends and start fresh in the middle of term.

Accepting the fact that his mind wouldn't let him go to sleep again but rather torment him with problems he had no solutions to, John swung his legs out of bed and got up.

* * *

People were useless, the whole lot of them!

Sherlock fumed, sitting on the balcony rail with his fourth cigarette in half an hour. Not that they helped, but he'd rather have _something_ than nothing at all.

 _'You are going through withdrawal and your body substituting,'_ his brain scolded and Sherlock promptly told it to shut the hell up and stop bothering him.

Sherlock Holmes was not going through withdrawal. Addicts went through withdrawal and Sherlock Holmes was not an addict. He could stop any time he wanted to, but the thing was this; he didn't want to.

Why torture himself by living according to the rules? Why make an effort if it's all for nothing anyway? Why not use the distraction and grant his mind some peace and quiet? Why not use all the means possible to do so? Yes, why the hell not?

If asked why, Sherlock would give the same answer over and over again; because I _want_ to.

Which brought him right back to his initial problem, being the fact that Victor had run off with some starry-eyed kid who believed Victor to be the love of his life. Victor, of course, only saw the opportunities, the money and a decent shag. Sherlock wasn't jealous, because while Victor himself really was a decent shag, there were still better. No, the problem with this current situation was that Victor had a new source of income in the form of a wealthy ambassador's son, leaving Sherlock without his daily dosage.

Cursing at the thought of his dealer and his new _boyfriend_ , Sherlock stomped out the bud of his cigarette, lit a new one and took a big gulp of the scotch he'd nicked out of Aldéric's study. At least one thing the old man was good for. He let the bitter liquid wash through his body, smiling at the slight burning in his throat.

Licking his lips in an effort to savour every last drop, the curly-haired teen crossed his legs and took another drag, blowing the smoke out in a perfect circle.

There was always the option of finding a new dealer, but looking for the right one was such a tedious task. Nowadays, people mixed all kinds of shit into their stuff, lacing it with starch, lactose, caffeine and God knows what to make more money. Paying hundreds of pounds a week only to get ripped off definitely wasn't worth it.

Sherlock's only other option, though, was Jim Moriarty, a man well-known in the scene and better treated as a last resort. Jim was ruthless in his dealings, had no mercy and a sheer unending fortune - decidedly not a good combination. Now, Sherlock could have overlooked all that, given his own sharp mind and money, but crawling back to an ex-lover just for a hit? No, Sherlock wasn't that desperate. _Yet._

With an annoyed sigh, the brunette flicked his cigarette down into the flowerbed, slightly disappointed when nothing caught on fire. _That_ would have been a fun distraction. The universe, however, seemed to have other plans for Sherlock, choosing that exact moment for the puncture marks on his left arm to start itching.

With a growl, Sherlock slipped out of his coat, exposing his arms to the cold night air in hopes of some relief - a rather pointless endeavour. Accepting defeat, he began to scratch at the marks, humming contentedly at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

He didn't notice John until the blond cleared his throat and offered a shy, "Sherlock?"

* * *

John wandered through the dark mansion, mind reeling and body aching. Yep, he'd definitely caught a cold. Perfect bloody timing.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered into the sitting room, remembering the mountains of books. As a kid, John had loved to read, but his mum had always urged him to go outside and play, do 'real boy things', which was Holly Watson code for _'Get the hell out, I've got some bloke coming over!'_. It hadn't been all bad, living on the street for a huge part of his childhood, since he'd met Bill and discovered his love for football while running around the neighbourhood, trying to kill time. Sure, a stable home life and a caring mother would have been preferable, but John was used to taking what he got without questioning it, simply glad that his parents never got physical with him. Well, when he said never...

He was studying the book selection - which was truly astonishing - when a cold breeze hit him, causing a shiver to run through his whole body. Realising the balcony door was open, John made to close it, only to spot Sherlock, sitting on the rail, smoking.

John's first instinct was to sneak away unnoticed and return to the guest room. His following thought was something along the lines of _'Go out there and snog the shit out of that beautiful, annoying bastard!'_ which was a little surprising, extremely confusing and totally _not_ what John would normally think or do. But normal seemed to have run away and fled as soon as the Holmes siblings had come into his life, so the blond took a few steps towards the balcony, cleared his throat and asked, admitted a bit shyly, but still, "Sherlock?"

The other boy whirled around, staring at John with a wild look in his eyes. After a moment, he seemed to recognise him, grunted what John supposed was his acknowledgement, and turned his back again.

All his previous confidence gone, he considered going back to his original plan of finding some reading matter. What was he even supposed to say? He didn't know the first thing about Sherlock, except for the fact that he was an amazing kisser, probably had the softest, smoothest lips in the whole world, possessed a pair of magic hands and-

John's shook himself. His habit of daydreaming about Sherlock was becoming a bit annoying as of late, even to himself. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the rail, easily swung his legs over it and made himself comfortable - well, as comfortable as possible, considering he was sitting on a metal bar - next to the curly-haired boy, who watched his every move, eyes following John and finally coming to a rest on the Omega's face, somehow appearing like they were expecting... _something._

"What?" John asked, frowning. He realised, not for the first time, that it was almost impossible to read Sherlock. He did notice the track marks and the faint tremor in the older teen's hands, however, remembering Ford's words from the other day. "Are you all right?"

Sherlock looked away quickly and nodded once, stiffly. "Fine."

They sat in silence, which wasn't exactly awkward, but not companionable either.

"Your mother is an idiot," Sherlock finally announced, keeping his gaze on the flowers beneath them.

"Mycroft told you," John concluded, but the other boy shook his head.

"It's obvious."

"What?" John demanded, turning a bit more toward Sherlock, watching him roll the filter of his latest cigarette around between thumb and forefinger.

The older teen smiled, just a little. "You've been crying for quite some time before falling asleep, waking up again in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep - you're clearly upset. You are strong, independent, proud. You stand up for what you believe is right - as the confrontation with Powers has shown - you don't care about other people's opinions with the exception of your family's. Your sister, she has problems, but you get along for the most part, help each other out. You worry about her, but you won't let her mistakes control your own life. Your father is gone, only leaving your mother. She's indifferent, self-involved to the point of being cruel, even to her children. She never accepted your sister being gay and reacted even more violently when her second child, _a boy_ , came out as well, kicking you out of your house, which is why you're here at four in the morning on a Wednesday."

John gaped for a moment before remembering to close his mouth. "How do you know all that?"

"As I said, it's obvious," Sherlock shrugged.

"It's bloody amazing, is what it is!" the younger boy exclaimed and Sherlock turned, raising a surprised eyebrow.

"You think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off!"

After a moment of silence, they simultaneously broke out in laughter, John having to hold on to the rail in order to prevent himself from toppling over.

"Those people are idiots, too, you know," John said after having calmed down a bit, still slightly out of breath.

Sherlock smiled, a full-grown smile this time. "The world is full of them. It's preposterous."

"Yes, quite," the younger boy sniffed snobbishly, only causing them both to start giggling and sniggering again. It was good to see Sherlock laugh, John decided. He seemed younger, like his proper age, less haunted and tormented. It was nice. And he wanted to tell him, to prevent that lovely smile from disappearing again, to keep it on the young Alpha's face. "You're cute when you smile," John blurted out, blushing instantly. Well, that had _not_ come out right.

"Oh?" Sherlock inquired, quirking an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Mm," the blond choked out, refusing to look at the other boy, staring down at his hands instead. He was pleasantly surprised when another, slender hand joined his, long fingers threading through his own, tugging gently. He lifted his eyes to find Sherlock smirking at him - _the smug bastard!_ \- pulling at his hand, urging him closer. Swallowing hard, John slid across the rail until he was pressed flush against the curly-haired teen's side. He forgot how to breathe when Sherlock put an arm around his shoulders and leaned closer, lips ghosting across John's cheek as he bent down to pick up his coat from the floor.

The Omega let out a shaky breath, pressing his eyes shut. Next to him, Sherlock chuckled, draping the heavy fabric over them both, his arm around John tightening.

"Relax, John," the older teen whispered, fingers wandering up John's arm to the nape of his neck, stroking softly.

"Easier said than done," John muttered, but turned his head and buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder nonetheless, inhaling deeply. He hummed contentedly when the brunet's distinctive scent hit his nose and nuzzled at the shirt under his face. He brought up his arms, wrapping them around Sherlock's middle, and, without meaning to, began to drift off, the Alpha's soothing presence lulling him to sleep.

* * *

Sherlock watched the boy in his arms, brushing some of the blond hair away from his eyes. He let his hand linger, running it over John's brows, down his nose and over his cheek before placing it back on his neck. The younger boy smiled in his sleep, leaning in to the touch, seeking out the warmth.

Unable to stop himself, Sherlock shifted, leaning John's head against his chest and pressing a quick, chaste kiss on top of it.

 _'This is perfect,'_ his brain exclaimed in delight and for once, the teen was inclined to agree.

"Here."

Sherlock groaned and turned his head, shooting Mycroft his best _'you-ruined-a-perfect-moment-and-I-am-never-going-to-forgive-you-for-that'_ -glare.

The redhead rolled his eyes and thrust the steaming cup at his stubborn little brother again.

Scowling, Sherlock took it and pointedly faced away, hoping an ignored Mycroft would soon turn into a gone Mycroft.

He had no such luck.

"What are your intentions towards John?"

The curly-haired boy snorted, but unconsciously tightened his hold on the Omega. "None of your business."

"I'm inclined to disagree with you on that, Sherlock."

"Go away."

Mycroft did the opposite and leaned against the rail, eyes taking in the features of John's relaxed face. Something inside Sherlock flared up and he growled possessively before he could stop himself. Mortified, he buried his face in the Omega's soft blond hair, trying to hide away from his stupid, annoying brother.

"Sherlock-"

"You can't take him away from me, he's _mine!_ " the younger Alpha snarled and John stirred, frowning a bit in his sleep. Careful not to wake the boy, Sherlock soothingly nuzzled against his temple until the blond went limp against him again.

"Why in heaven's name would I do that?" Mycroft demanded with a sigh and grabbed his brother's chin, forcing the pouting teen to face him. "I'm married, with twins on the way. I am _happy_ , Sherlock, which is what I want _you_ to be as well."

Sherlock remained quiet because, honestly, he had no idea why the bloody hell he was acting like a smitten idiot. Or, to be more precise, he knew exactly why, but chose to ignore those feelings. Instead he turned and ran the tip of his nose along John's earlobe, breathing him in, letting the faintly familiar scent wash over him in calming waves.

"Don't pretend to care about me, Mycroft. It's disconcerting," Sherlock finally said, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of John's shirt.

"The boy's in love with you," the redhead continued, ignoring his brother completely. "For once in your life, try not to fuck a good thing up out of misplaced self-pity and stubbornness."

Sherlock couldn't help himself, his lips curved up into a smile against his will. "Profanity? Really, Mycroft?"

Mycroft's answer was to slap his brother on the back of the head. "Get him inside, it's freezing out here," he said before bending down to press a kiss into Sherlock's curly hair. Without saying anything else, the eldest Holmes grabbed the stolen scotch and vanished back inside, leaving the younger Alpha to deal with his confusing emotions.

And Sherlock glared, at nothing in particular, but didn't childishly rub at the kissed spot like he normally would.

* * *

"John."

The blond stirred, rubbing his cheek against... something soft and warm? _Sherlock!_

"John," Sherlock said again and the younger boy could feel a hand moving through his hair, stroking, _caressing_. He sighed happily and tried to move closer to the Alpha, slipping his own hand under Sherlock's shirt, enjoying the feeling of the smooth, warm skin under his fingers.

"Your hands are cold."

"Shut up," John murmured and Sherlock chuckled softly.

"We should go inside."

"Don't wanna," the younger teen whined sleepily, clutching the back of Sherlock's shirt with his free hand to support his point.

"Come on," Sherlock said, easing himself off the rail and pulling John into his arms. _That_ John could live with. He quickly closed his own arms around the taller boy, leaning against his chest, surrounded by a warm cocoon of wool coat and just _Sherlock_. His awake, sober self would have been embarrassed beyond belief at this needy, clingy behaviour, but his tired, worn out self didn't seem to care one single bit about that. Being close to the Alpha was nice, calming, comfortable, the only place in the world John wanted to be at the moment. It was pure bliss.

Bliss he was startled out of when the other boy picked him up bridal style, obviously deciding that John wasn't awake enough to make sound decisions. Which didn't bother the blond in the slightest. He proceeded to wrap his arms around Sherlock's neck, face resting in the crook of the brunet's neck. "You smell good," the younger boy mumbled, running his nose along Sherlock's collarbone, delighted when a shiver travelled through the Alpha's entire body.

It took the drowsy teen a moment to realise when they had stopped moving. He peeled open his eyes, looking up at Sherlock from under heavy lids. "What?"

Sherlock hesitated. Which was enough to wake John up a considerable amount. "What's wrong?" the shorter teen asked again, worry creeping into his voice.

"Do you-" the young Alpha began and groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Do you want to spend the night with me?" he finally mumbled, a faint blush across his cheeks.

John frowned and turned his head. They were standing in the hall outside Sherlock's bedroom, John still cosily resting against the other teen's chest.

"Yeah. That'd be lovely," the Omega finally smiled, nuzzling his face back against Sherlock's neck. Sherlock, who'd asked his permission before- with a start, John realised what he'd just agreed to. Or rather that he had no idea what he'd just agreed to. Spending the night with someone could literally mean anything from a friendly sleepover to a night of shagging - which he wasn't completely sure he was ready for. No, scratch that, he was definitely _not_ ready for that!

By the time Sherlock placed him on the bed, John was in full panic mode, hands sweaty and heart beating violently against his chest. "Sherlock-" he began, voice breaking a little, eyes wide and scared.

The older boy frowned down at him for a moment, head tilted, before realisation filled his eyes. "Don't worry, John," he smiled, dropped his coat and toed off his shoes, crawling under the covers fully clothed. He shifted and wriggled until they were lying face to face, chests pressed together and legs entangled under the warm, heavy blanket. He brought one hand up to the Omega's face, cupping his cheek, and sought out the younger teen's eyes with his own.

John's breath caught as he waited for Sherlock to close the final distance, but the Alpha didn't. The blond frowned a little, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Sherlock's intention had seemed clear, why was he waiting now? John blinked a few times, trying to clear his head and think straight around the pheromones beginning to fill the room; they had been about to kiss, right?

Seeing John's confusion, Sherlock's mouth quirked up into a small smile and he moved the remaining distance - or at least that's what the Omega had expected. But, again, the older boy paused, barely a millimetre of air between their mouths, their breath mingling. Sharing Sherlock's breath was intoxicating, causing John to completely lose the ability to think, or do anything, really, but be consumed by the beautiful Alpha next to him who still didn't show the slightest inclination to take things any further than lying next to each other.

John made an involuntary, needy sound in the back of his throat and Sherlock had the audacity to bark out a laugh. The bastard was enjoying this, too. Bordering on becoming seriously frustrated, the younger boy began to fidget, so Sherlock caught his hand with his own free one, bringing it to his face to rub his nose against it, finally leaving it on his own cheek and staring at John in anticipation.

Which was when it finally clicked. Sherlock was waiting. Waiting for him, for John, handing over the reins. The Alpha was willing to do this at the more inexperienced boy's pace, showing him that they weren't going to do a single thing the blond wasn't absolutely sure about and completely comfortable with. Sherlock, _the Alpha_ , wasn't going to push, was going to wait for John, _the Omega_.

 _'That's not how the books said it would go,'_ John thought, remembering some rather unpleasant texts about Alphas taking what was 'rightfully' theirs without paying a single thought to the Omega. Something in John's chest swelled, but he beat the feeling into submission, not ready to deal with that mess right now. Instead, he smiled a shy little smile, closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips to Sherlock's.

The older teen hummed his approval and John decided to deepen the kiss, carefully probing at the seam of Sherlock's lips with his tongue. Sherlock opened his mouth, just a little, inviting John in, one hand wandering down, possessively sprawling over the blond's hip.

The Omega didn't waste any time, immediately starting to lick his way into Sherlock's mouth, tasting, caressing the older teen's tongue with his own in slow, heavy movements. It was nothing like their first kiss, there was no heat, no urgency, only the two of them, John and Sherlock, _together_.

"John," the Alpha whispered against the younger teen's lips, sounding breathless and raw and oh so sexy. The young Omega opened his eyes, meeting Sherlock's lust-filled ones, and gulped. Gathering all his courage - Why was this so bloody hard? They'd practically dry-humped against the sitting room wall already! - John grabbed the front of Sherlock's shirt, pulling and moving his hips forward at the same time, effectively pressing their groins together. It was heaven

The blond let out a whimper and Sherlock groaned hungrily, moving his already very present erection against John's rapidly swelling cock. The younger boy briefly wondered how he could have been so stupid, not realising that this, a hot, hard prick pressing against his own, was the absolute best feeling in the world, why he hadn't tried it sooner or if-

 _"Fuck!"_ the Omega gasped, his train of thought interrupted when the curly-haired teen began to buck against him in a steady rhythm, all the while never stopping with his ministrations of John's mouth, nipping, biting, teasing, kissing, his hands pressing into the younger boy's hips, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles over his skin. Suddenly, there was warmth coiling in the pit of his stomach and John, with a start, realised how close he was.

"Sherlock," he rasped, in an attempt to warn the Alpha to slow down.

But Sherlock seemed to have other plans, picking up the pace of his hips, snapping them forward more urgently. "Let go, John," he breathed into the blond's mouth before moving away to the young Omega's neck, sinking his teeth into the flushed, sweaty skin, careful not to mark, but hard enough to hurt just the right amount.

John cried out - what exactly he wasn't even sure afterwards - and came, clutching at Sherlock, who was right behind him, shuddering with his own release. The shorter boy fell back with a content hum, eyes drifting shut out of their own accord. He barely registered the Alpha pulling down his trousers and pants, only jerking when something cold was pressed against his oversensitive cock. He moaned and Sherlock chuckled, cleaning him off before manoeuvring the boneless teen back into his pyjama bottoms, soiled pants landing somewhere on the floor.

After another few minutes, the Omega felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his torso, pulling him close against a now bare chest, his head coming to rest in the crook of Sherlock's neck.

"You're so lovely," John murmured sleepily, licking at the underside of the older boy's jaw before pressing a lingering kiss to it. "And beautiful," he added, yawning.

"Go to sleep," Sherlock said, voice soft and soothing, and pressed his lips to the Omega's forehead, leaving them there. John sighed, snuggled closer, and did as he was told.

* * *

Watching Sherlock sleep was mesmerising, John decided.

The slow rise and fall of his chest, the slight frown and his eyes moving behind their lids as he dreamed, his fingers holding on to the hem of the blanket, twitching and curling.

Carefully, the young Omega reached out, smoothing a hand over the older teen's belly, tracing the soft, dark hair around his navel and feeling the muscles tense under his touch. A smile spread across John's face and he bent down, shoved the blanket further out of the way and boldly pressed a soft kiss to the Alpha's left hipbone.

"Mm," Sherlock hummed and arched into the contact.

With a grin, the blond straddled the other teen's legs and began showering the pale chest beneath him with kisses, eliciting a string of sweet, sleepy sounds from the curly-haired boy. John moved up, leaving a wet trail with his tongue, until he reached Sherlock's neck, lips ghosting over the Alpha's pulse point where his scent was strongest. He inhaled deeply before pulling back a fraction, staring directly into Sherlock's open eyes.

"Hey," the Omega murmured, face hovering only a few centimetres over the other teen's.

Sherlock's answer was to grab the front of John's shirt and pull him down, crashing their mouths together. John made a surprised sound in the back of his throat but quickly recovered and opened his lips, allowing the Alpha's tongue to slide inside and explore. They kissed lazily for a long while, Sherlock's hands coming up to cup John's face while the younger teen thrust his fingers into Sherlock's curls, tugging gently.

It was John who moved back eventually when the need for air became too urgent to ignore - How dull was breathing anyway? - and nestled his head against Sherlock's neck, smiling as the Alpha's arms closed around him, holding him close. With a content little yawn he settled down, ready to doze and laze about in the comfort of Sherlock's presence, until he spotted the alarm clock on the brunette's bedside table.

"Shit!" John cursed and jerked up, causing Sherlock to grunt in disapproval and scowl up at him. "I'm late for class," the Omega offered as an excuse and yelped rather undignified when the Alpha had him pinned to the mattress a moment later.

"Stay," Sherlock demanded, pouting down at John and looking just too fucking adorable with his messy hair and impossible eyes.

"I can't, I-" John tried, only causing the Alpha to roll his eyes before leaning down to nibble at the blond's ear.

"You're excused for the rest of the week," Sherlock said and sucked John's earlobe into his mouth, making the younger boy shiver and moan in response. "Family problems, familiar circumstances or some such thing."

"Really? Who-" the Omega began, but failed to keep his train of thought when Sherlock moved to his neck and began to suck at the love bite he'd left there earlier in the morning.

Sherlock pulled away a moment later, smirking down at John, supporting his weight on his hands on either side of the blond's face. "Problem?"

John swallowed hard, breath quickening. School suddenly seemed far less important than continuing this and if he was excused, well.

Taking John's silence as a no, Sherlock, with a victorious grin, tugged at the Omega's shirt and expertly pulled it over his head, immediately attaching his mouth to the younger teen's throat.

"Fu-... _shit_ , you're going to kill me," the younger teen panted and shivered.

The Alpha pulled back, running an appreciative, lust-filled gaze over John. "Oh, I haven't even started yet," he breathed, voice rough, and moved down to suck one of the Omega's nipples into his mouth and swirl his tongue around the little knob.

 _"Oh!"_ was all John managed as he thrust his fingers in Sherlock's curls and threw back his head. One of Sherlock's hands came up to John's other nipple and pinched, causing the younger boy to hiss, his toes curling into the mattress. He whined, annoyed, when the older teen moved away, but the sound turned into a moan when Sherlock's mouth kept travelling down, leaving a trail of kisses and bites on his chest and belly, finally settling on nibbling just below his hipbone.

Sherlock's stomach did funny little flips at the sounds John was making, but for once the Alpha didn't care, too caught up in his task. Shaking fingers - _'Really? It's not like I'm doing this for the first time!'_ \- fumbled with the cord of the younger teen's pyjama trousers, yanking them down and leaving them to pool around John's feet. Sherlock took a moment to appreciate the sight of a flustered John, eyes pressed shut, cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly, before he settled between his legs, kissing the inside of his thighs.

"Sherlock, I-" John began, but cut himself off, embarrassed and unsure how to voice his insecurities.

The Alpha's eyes snapped up to him immediately and the blond winced, realising how desperate and scared he must have sounded just now. Smiling weakly, he gestured with his hands, mouth opening and closing a few times without actually making any sound. With a defeated groan, the Omega let his head fall back against the pillows and draped an arm across his face.

How the hell were you supposed to tell a partner that you'd never received a blowjob before? Was that even something he needed to mention or would things be painfully clear once he came too soon? And the most frightening thought swirling around John's head; was he expected to reciprocate? Because even though he'd managed to come to terms with his sexuality pretty quickly, he wasn't sure if giving head was something he would enjoy or even be good at. What if Sherlock laughed at him or, God forbid, tossed him out, repulsed by his lack of experience and shitty technique? What if-

"John, look at me."

The younger boy slowly lifted his arm and peeked out at Sherlock, who went on and removed it completely, moving back up to be face to face with John.

"Stop worrying," the Alpha said, gently running a hand over John's cheek and jaw, taking a hold of his chin when the blond tried to turn away. "It's going to be perfect because it's you."

John's jaw threatened to drop while Sherlock's eyes went wide in shock of how stupidly sentimental his attempt to cheer up the other teen had been. But John was blushing and smiling and Sherlock couldn't help it, he smiled back and pressed their lips together.

"Promise me something," Sherlock whispered against the John’s mouth and John nodded, sucking at the Alpha's lower lip. "Tell me the instant something makes you uncomfortable."

"'kay," John said, eager to go back to kissing, but the curly-haired teen pulled back, looking down at him with an intensity that was almost scary.

"Say it."

John frowned a bit, but complied. "I promise. Can we get back to the snogging now?"

"Happily," Sherlock smirked and sealed his mouth to the Omega's again in a demanding kiss, leaving John to feel absolutely wrecked when he moved away and down again.

John moaned and went completely limp the moment Sherlock's tongue touched the head of his cock and one hand shot out and got tangled in the older teen's curls, fingers twitching.

The Alpha lost no time and licked a wet strip from John's balls all the way up, swirling his tongue around the head for a moment before swallowing the other boy whole, causing a strangled, choked-off half moan-half groan from the blond, his hips arching off the mattress. Sherlock's eyes closed almost automatically and he hummed in pleasure when he felt John's cock hit the back of his throat. Really, he was rather well endowed for Omega standards – if the biology books were to be believed – and the brunet was glad to have had quite some practice, otherwise he'd be starting to gag right about now.

Gently but urgently, Sherlock sprawled his hands over John's hips and pushed him back on the bed, steadying him. The blond whimpered and tried to buck up into Sherlock's mouth. The Alpha hollowed his cheeks in response, eliciting a breathless "Holy fucking shit!" from John, who was clutching at the sheets with his free hand, toes curling and legs quivering.

Sherlock set up a steady rhythm, alternating between bobbing his head up and down and licking just underneath John's glans, delighted at the sweet, almost sobbing whines escaping the shorter teen. He was positively startled when John reached out and took a hold of his hand, linking their fingers and bringing their now joined hands up to his face, showering Sherlock's knuckles with wet little kisses. It was a stretch and his back wasn't going to be thankful later, but the Alpha couldn't tear his eyes away from John's face, scrunched up in pleasure, sweaty, _absolutely beautiful_.

"Sherlock, I-" was all the Omega managed, way beyond forming full sentences, and tugged at the older boy's hand in a warning, urging him to pull away. But Sherlock did the exact opposite, removed his hand from John's hip and sucked harder. John's whole body tensed and lifted off the mattress and then, with a choked _"Sherlock!"_ , he emptied himself down the Alpha's throat and went completely boneless, chest rising and falling rapidly with his heavy breaths.

The brunet swallowed every last drop of the sticky liquid, savouring the taste that was so uniquely _John_. He carefully let the younger teen's cock slide from his mouth and crept up the bed, cradling a spent John in his arms, wrapping himself around the other boy and placing tiny little kisses all over his face; his closed eyes, his nose, his cheeks and finally his still parted mouth.

John sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's torso, and returned the pressure of lips, but pulled back in surprise when their tongues met.

"I can taste myself in your mouth."

Sherlock snorted and leaned in again, but John put a finger on his lips to keep him at bay. The curly-haired boy grunted in frustration and began to move his still release-seeking erection against the Omega's leg.

The blond was insistent, though. "We didn't use any prote-"

"I know you're clean," Sherlock said and waved a dismissive hand, glowering impatiently.

John had a hard time not to chuckle at the look. Then Sherlock's words sunk in. "How do you-"

"John," the Alpha almost whined and the Omega decided it was time to have mercy - and worry about Sherlock's unsettling knowledge of his doctor's records later – and sealed their mouths back together.

A bit unsure about the whole procedure, John let one of his hands wander down to Sherlock's pants and cupped his erection, applying just a tiny bit of pressure.

Sherlock pulled back immediately, brows drawn together in a frown. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't _have_ to. But I _want_ to," the younger boy shrugged. Sherlock, however, didn't look convinced and John rolled his eyes, stroked his hand over Sherlock's length and watched in amazement as the Alpha's mouth fell open in a silent _'Oh!'_

Deciding that now was the time to be brave, the Omega slid his hand into the brunet's underwear, curled his hand around the throbbing cock and gave it one slow stroke, causing Sherlock to practically melt into the sheets with a breathy moan. Satisfied with that reaction, the blond tightened his hold and sped up a bit, doing what he himself liked best – which, apparently, was completely okay with the older teen, who writhed and moved his hips, fucking into John's fist while his hands were busy clawing at the headboard, pillows, John's shoulders, anything he could get a hold of.

John watched, fascinated, how Sherlock came undone, his usual mask slipping, revealing all sorts of emotions that changed too fast to be interpreted properly. And he wondered how _he_ , ordinary John Watson, was doing that to _Sherlock Holmes_ , an amazingly gorgeous genius. It was only a hand job, after all.

 _'It's going to be perfect, because it's you.'_ \- the Alpha's earlier words came back to mind and John's heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. A surge of affection for the curly-haired madman seared through him and his mouth was on Sherlock's again before he even had a chance to think about it. Not that there was much to think about, kissing Sherlock would, undoubtedly, be one of his favourite things until the day he died.

"John," the older teen rumbled, his deep voice resonating through both their chests, as his body started to tense.

"Yes, come on. Come for me, Sherlock," John whispered, horrified by his own words for a moment, before he shrugged mentally and adjusted his grip, flicking a thumb over the head of the Alpha's cock.

Sherlock shuddered and moaned again, pressing his face against John's chest.

"You are so fucking beautiful, do you know that?" the blond continued, finding it surprisingly easy to talk like _that_ now that he'd started it, the words coming easily and without having to think about them. "Beautiful and brilliant and sexy," he groaned and bit down on Sherlock's ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth. "I could watch you like this All. Day. Long."

That did it. Sherlock groaned, went completely rigid and with a quiet, almost surprised "John!" on his lips, spilled all over the younger boy's hand before collapsing against him, panting.

John wiped his hands on the sheets - they were dirty already, so there - and tried to sit up, get something to clean them up, but Sherlock, with a sudden burst of energy, flipped them so he was sprawled over the smaller body, a heavy yet not uncomfortable weight that made no indication whatsoever of moving away anytime soon.

The Omega rolled his eyes, smiling all the same and burying his nose in those wonderful dark curls. "I was just gonna go and get a wet cloth or something. We're filthy."

"Apparently, so is your mouth when you wank off other men," Sherlock deadpanned and pulled one of the blankets over them in a final _'we-are-staying-here-and-there-is-not-a-single-bloody-thing-you-can-do-about-it'_ -statement.

"Shut up," John complained and could feel the other teen smirk against his neck before he pressed a brief kiss to the overheated skin. With a defeated sigh, the blond settled into a more comfortable position - a rather hard thing to accomplish with a sleepy, annoyed Sherlock practically glued to him - and closed his eyes. With a happy little sigh, he rubbed his nose through the Alpha's hair, just because he could, breathing in the scent that was growing on him with each passing moment spent in the brunet's presence. He didn't even care about the flashing neon signs in his head reading _'John is in love with Sherlock!'_ or the butterflies going crazy in his stomach. All of that could be dealt with later. Like, a lot later. Preferably after some more sex.

On top of him, Sherlock huffed out an irritated breath. "Stop thinking, it's annoying."

* * *

Sherlock woke up before John and it took him exactly one glance at the expression on the sleeping Omega's face to start panicking.

He _didn't_ do feelings. He _didn't_ cuddle. He _didn't_ snog. And he certainly _didn't_ almost confess his lo- adoration for the first best Omega to walk into his life.

He did, however, grab some mostly clean clothes and vanish through his bedroom window in order to avoid bumping into anyone on his escape.


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes family tries to comfort John in typical Holmes fashion which ends in eating directly out of bowls and getting very drunk.

** Aftermath **

John stumbled into the kitchen at two o'clock in the afternoon, bleary-eyed and yawning, rubbing a hand through his dishevelled hair.

He had woken up to an empty bed and Sherlock gone, which had been more than a bit disappointing and hurt an awful lot - especially after discovering that the stupid git had stealthily left the house without even saying goodbye. The older teen had been so gentle and, yes, _loving_ the night before, John had automatically assumed that to mean something. An obvious mistake on his part, it seemed now. He couldn't blame Sherlock, though, it was his own damn fault for falling for a strange, brilliant, impossible, irritating-

The young Omega's train of thought was interrupted when his eyes fell on the two figures in the adjacent dining room. Mycroft was backed up against the table, having the living hell snogged out of himself by the looks of it. The redhead's fingers were curled into Gregory's shirt, the older Alpha's hands in turn sprawled out over Mycroft's hips, firmly holding him in place. Gregory growled into the younger man's mouth, hungrily, and Mycroft shuddered in response, hands wandering dangerously close to the brunet's belt.

Deciding that it was probably time to announce himself now and before things got completely inappropriate, John cleared his throat, half amused and half embarrassed. Not as embarrassed as Mycroft, as it turned out when the oldest Holmes sibling jerked away from the other man, panting and blushing.

"Mornin' kiddo," Gregory grinned, obviously not caring about being walked in on, and placed a last, quick kiss on Mycroft's swollen lips before fully facing the blond teen. "You okay?"

"What a delightfully moronic question," Mycroft muttered, face still burning red, and straightened his shirt. The older man simply rolled his eyes and poked his tongue out at his husband's back.

"Why are you here?" John blurted out, taking in Mycroft's appearance; well-fitting black jeans and a white V-neck, no shoes or socks. He'd never get used to seeing this relaxed, casual side of the usually so composed Holmes.

"I live here, in case that little fact slipped your mind," Mycroft replied and sniffed, glaring at nothing in particular and absolutely everything at the same time.

Gregory snorted in amusement. "Mikey here was worried about you," he smirked, unbothered by the now fuming man next to him. "Wanted to make sure you were okay." He turned to face the redhead, blinking his warm, brown eyes at him. "This protective streak of yours is absolutely _adorable_ , darling."

"I hate you so much," Mycroft groaned, but seemed to give up all pretences of being angry, burying his face in Gregory's neck and uttering a long-suffering sigh instead. Gregory kept grinning and winked at the Omega.

John couldn't prevent his lips from curving up into an amused little smiled. Gregory was something else, he decided. Something fun. Suddenly remembering his manners, the blond extended a hand. "I'm John, which you already know, I guess. Thanks for, eh, picking me up and all that."

"Greg. And it's not a problem, no worries." Greg shrugged one shoulder and shook the boy's hand, his other arm wrapped around Mycroft, who had turned a little to watch their interaction. "Anything for the family," he smiled, pressing a kiss against the younger Alpha's temple.

It was the teen's turn to flush. The Holmeses had welcomed him with open arms from the very beginning, providing him with a sense of belonging he hadn't experienced in years. To hear that they, apparently, considered him family made John stupidly happy and warm inside.

Mycroft's phone began to ring - bringing John back to the room - and the man actually looked relieved as he quickly withdrew it and squirmed out of a pouting Greg's arms, pointedly rolling his eyes at the older man as he walked out, speaking in rapid Japanese.

John's stomach chose the moment the door fell closed behind Mycroft to growl, rather loudly, reminding the boy that he hadn't eaten in nearly a day.

"Now that's a good plan," Greg laughed and walked over to the fridge, waving a hand at the bar stools, indicating for the teen to sit down. "I think there's some- ah, yes, perfect." The Alpha emerged, beaming at the foil covered bowl he was holding. "Home-made chocolate pudding for breakfast?" he asked, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at the blond.

"Why not," John shrugged, chuckling, and Greg picked up two spoons on his way over to the boy. He joined him at the bar and set the pudding down between them, holding out one of the spoons.

The teen lifted a questioning eyebrow. "No plates?"

"Plates schmates," Greg announced with a smirk, ripping the foil off the bowl and stabbing his spoon into the wobbly food. "Just don't tell my husband," he winked before taking a huge bite, eyes fluttering closed as he hummed in delight.

"Wouldn't dream of it," the Omega laughed and began to dig in. They ate in silence for a while, John taking his time to run a quick gaze over the other man. He looked to be in his early thirties, chocolaty brown eyes and hair - with a few grey streaks already making an appearance - and a distinctive, sweet scent.

"Like what you see, kid?" Greg suddenly asked around a mouth full of pudding, causing John to blush again.

"Sorry, I, eh, wasn't- sorry," the teen stuttered and the Alpha laughed, ruffling at the young Omega's hair. John scowled at the motion, only causing the man to laugh harder.

"So," Greg began, once he'd calmed down a fraction. "You're Sherlock's new boyfriend?"

John bit his lip, staring down at the bar before answering. "No, it's not like that. We're just- I have no idea, to be honest," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in a tired motion.

"Don't worry about it, the little idiot's mad about you," the brunet waved a dismissive hand, stuffing his mouth with some more pudding.

"How can you tell?" the boy wanted to know, trying and failing to keep the butterflies in his stomach from going crazy at that.

"Known him long enough," the Alpha shrugged. "It's obvious."

"How long have you and Mycroft been together, then?" John asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic of his rapidly evolving crush and whether or not said crush liked him back - which he severely doubted right now.

"About seven years, give or take. I can never remember the exact date," Greg admitted and pulled a face.

The younger boy was quiet for a moment before posing his next question. "Isn't it weird that you're both Alphas?"

"Why? Think we can't figure out who's going to take it up the arse?" Greg smirked and John turned the darkest shade of red possible, much to the man's amusement.

"Well, I just never really heard of it, is all," the teen shrugged sheepishly and glared a bit at his breakfast - or rather lunch - companion.

Greg watched him, considering that for a moment. "Well, I figured out my sexuality a while before all that Alpha stuff, so it never really mattered all that much to me, I guess. Besides, it's not like there's a handbook on any of this madness."

"I have no idea what the hell I'm getting myself into," John admitted, earning himself a sympathetic smile from the other man.

"Well, in that case, you've found the perfect group of people, because none of us do, not really. Personally, I make it all up as I'm going."

John smiled a little at that, but his expression stayed reserved, thoughtful.

"Hey." The teenager looked up, meeting Greg's soft eyes. "If he's a prat, just whack him over the back of the head. Works wonders," he winked and gave John’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

The Omega barked out a laugh and Greg beamed at him, apparently delighted at having cheered the blond up a little.

"You should go see Dad, by the way."

John frowned, confused.

"Calvin," Greg clarified with a chuckle and got up to rinse the now empty bowl in the sink.

"You call him Dad?"

The Alpha shrugged and shot John a look over his shoulder. "He insisted on it after a while, with me being part of the family and all. And it's nice, I guess," he smiled fondly.

"What about your own father? Doesn't he mind?" the teen wondered and winced when Greg stiffened.

"Let's leave that particular mess for another day, yeah?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"John, don't sweat it, it's okay," the man insisted and quickly grabbed a towel to dry his hands. "Just another one of those complicated things," he sighed, a bit sad in the Omega's opinion, and bent down to place a quick kiss on top of the blond's head, lingering for a short moment when John leaned into the contact.

"Still sorry, though," John mumbled and shrieked when Greg whipped him with the damp towel.

"Enough touchy-feely crap, all right? That's about all I can handle for one day," he laughed, shooing him to the door. "Go see Dad. Oh, and Mikey wants to have a chat," he added with an expression clearly conveying that the subject wasn't going to be pleasant.

John pulled a face at that. "You're not exactly bolstering me up here, mate," he complained, stubbornly staying in place to pout at the Alpha.

"Wasn't trying to," Greg singsonged, finally shoving him out into the hall.

* * *

His mobile blinked at him and for a moment, John considered not answering it. But that would only delay this particular discussion he did not want to have, so he pressed the necessary button and held the device up to his ear.

"Hi, Harry."

 _"Johnny, oh my God! Are you all right? What happened? Where are you? You are okay, aren't you?"_ his sister began to ramble immediately and, to be honest, her concern slightly warmed his heart.

"Harry, calm down. I'm fine."

 _"Liar,"_ the girl accused softly, because really, how could he be?

"I've been better," John admitted, rubbing a shaking hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm staying with Ellie, so it's not that bad, really."

 _"That's good, yeah,"_ Harry agreed, sounding thoughtful. _"Look, I tried talking to mum, I mean she's being completely unreasonable, but she won't listen. She keeps going on about-"_

"You know how she is," the Omega interrupted with a sigh. "Let her calm down a bit. I'll try talking to her again in a little while."

_"We had a massive row this morning. I finally packed my shit and left. Told her I didn't want to stay under the same roof as her after how she'd treated you. I can't believe she threw you out, Johnny."_

"Wait, where are _you_ staying, then?"

_"At Clara's. We've been together for nearly three months now. She has this cute little flat in the city and agreed to share."_

"That's nice."

There was an awkward pause and a lot of throat-clearing before Harry went on. _"John, you do know that I'm here for you, yeah? I mean, there's not much I can do, but still. Call me if you need me."_

"Same goes for you, sis," John smiled and Harry chuckled at the other end of the line.

_"We're one fucked up pair, is what we are."_

"Cheers," the teen laughed, fidgeting with the cord of his pyjama bottoms.

_"Listen, gotta run. Promise you'll keep in touch, okay?"_

"I'll try my best."

_"Wanker."_

"Twat."

_"Love ya, little brother."_

"You too, Harry," John returned and rang off, staring down at his mobile. Maybe this Clara was a good influence on Harry, she'd sounded sober and happy, after all. And maybe, _just maybe_ , his sister was a bit of an amazing person - not that he'd ever admit that in front of her, but she really was.

* * *

John carefully knocked at the dark, polished wood and peeked inside Calvin's study with a shy smile. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Ah, John. Yes, I did indeed. Come in," the man said and patted the sofa next to him, setting his book - something in French, ugh - down on a small side table.

"Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit," the teen sighed as he took the offered seat and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Calvin waved a dismissive hand. "Goes without saying."

John fidgeted nervously and shrugged a bit with one shoulder. "Well, thanks anyway."

"It's fine, dear, it really is," the older Omega insisted as he placed a hand on the back of the blond's neck, squeezing gently. "How did you sleep?"

 _'Pretty good after wandering into your son's room and getting sucked off,'_ John's brain provided, much to his shock, and he blushed. Again. "Eh, okay, I guess," he stammered, avoiding the man's eyes.

"Mm, yes," Calvin hummed, seemingly in deep thought. "Sherlock's bed is a lot more comfortable than the one in the guest room, I'm afraid."

The teen groaned and pressed his eyes shut. If humiliation could actually kill you, he'd be dropping dead right about now. "There's no way to hide anything from any of you, is there?"

"No. My kids resorted to outright lying a while ago," the redhead chuckled and John felt his own lips curve up into a small smile. "Talking about the devil, have you seen Sherlock yet today?"

The boy's smile faltered instantly. "Nope," he murmured meekly, lower lip coming out to pout without his permission. Well, pouting wasn't the most far-fetched thing to do in his situation, so John let it slide and, for good measure, scrunched up the rest of his face into a miserable grimace.

"Ah," Calvin said knowingly and then, "Don't read too much into it. He can be a downright bitch when he's on a comedown."

John's jaw dropped. And not just a little bit, more like all the bloody way. Calvin was the politest, most caring person and he did not use phrases like 'downright bitch' or 'comedown'.

The older Omega rolled his eyes, somehow managing to make the movement seem fond rather than annoyed. "You do realise that I am only posh through marriage, yes?"

"Could have fooled me," John laughed and proceeded to cuddle against the man's side, because Calvin was fun and amazing and there for comfort - which John could really do with.

The man made a content noise and wrapped an arm around the teen's shoulder, holding him close, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence for a good few minutes before Calvin spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What? My mum?" John frowned.

"That's not an option, we're going to discuss that no matter what. No, I mean the drugs."

The blond froze. "Why-" he tried, but realised he didn't exactly know what to say. Or ask. Or think.

Calvin shifted so he could press his nose into John's hair and place a quick kiss on the back of his head. "Seeing as you and Sherlock are steadily growing closer, don't you think you deserve this kind of information?"

That actually sounded very logical, John supposed. But, "Won't he be terribly pissed if you tell me? He doesn't seem as if he wants to talk about it."

"Opposed to his usual sunshiny state of mind?" the man asked and quirked an eyebrow. "Look, John, you have somehow weaselled your way into this family and everyone's hearts and I mean that in the most positive way possible. We all care about you, deeply, and not only Ellie would be crushed if something happened between you and Sherlock that caused you to leave and stay away. It's only fair to let you know what you're getting yourself into with my son."

The teen chewed at his lower lip, torn. "How long has he been, you know..."

"Regularly for the past two years. I'm not exactly sure when it started, you might have noticed that he's not the best at sharing."

"Yeah, I got that much," John half laughed half sighed. "What-" he began and cut himself off. Okay, this was harder than expected.

"Cocaine, mostly."

John went quiet. Then, "Why?"

"Ah," Calvin smiled sadly, "that is _the_ question, isn't it? It's the danger of it, I believe. To walk on the knife's edge, dance with death and escape time and time again, proving to himself how clever and in control he is. It does calm the mind, of course, slow everything down and stop the thoughts from running wild. And it makes you numb, emotions are much easier to deal with while high."

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but you all seem so, I don’t know, okay with this whole situation," the blond frowned, peeking up at the redhead.

"Sherlock is the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. We can only offer the help, he has to be the one to actually want it."

"But he doesn't want it?" John guessed and the older Omega nodded, absently running his fingers through the boy's hair.

"But I'm convinced that if the right person comes along, he'd eventually see reason and stop this foolishness and keep this whole bloody mess from escalating any further."

Wait, what? "I'm not- I don't... I don't know how to fix him," John spluttered, because he really didn't. Oh, he wanted to, to be the _one person_ , but what the hell was he supposed to do?

Calvin smiled. "You don't have to do anything. Simply being in his life is more than enough. And no one is forcing you to do even that. But I've got a feeling you're way past getting out and leaving all of this alone."

"Missed that opportunity ages ago," John agreed, burying his face in the man's neck. "Thanks."

"No, thank _you_ , John," Calvin said earnestly and kissed John's head before gently shoving him away and getting up.

John frowned at him and opened his mouth, but the older Omega dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Enough of this for now, we can discuss everything else later on."

"Thank you. Again. For everything," John said and stood as well, stepping close for another quick hug.

"Anything for the family, love."

* * *

John was napping on the sofa in the guest room, windows and door open in an attempt to let in as much fresh air as possible and clear his throbbing head. He would have been startled into falling to the floor if the cause for his racing heart hadn't been wrapping himself tightly around him.

"What the- I thought you were one of the sane ones," the teen groaned perplexed, staring down at the back of Ford's head, the rest of his face hidden from view.

"I'm sorry," the man mumbled into John's jumper, rubbing his nose along the blond's belly before pressing a chaste kiss to it.

Okay, that was new. And bloody weird. Even for Holmes standards. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Ford shifted, moved up and buried his face in the crook of John's neck in search for his Omega scent, probably to calm down and stop shaking, the teen thought in bewilderment.

"Ford?" he probed carefully, running a hand through the Alpha's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"The mags. Your mum. Everything, really," the brunet said against John's skin, refusing to budge even when poked in the sides.

Wait. Oh. _Oh!_ "It wasn't your fault. My mum's just a bit mental."

"Yeah, well, let's agree to disagree on that," the Alpha said bitterly, almost suffocating John by now.

"Ford, it-"

"John," Ford pulled back and locked their gazes, expression full of shadows that couldn't only have come from this. "Just don’t, okay?"

The blond was intrigued to, but there was actually moisture gathering in the corners of the man's eyes and John's Omega side howled with the need to comfort, so he closed his own arms around the trembling Alpha and decided to worry about this newest Holmesian quirk at some later point.

"Crawling on top of me while I'm asleep. And here I thought you were straight," John teased, relieved to hear the brunet chuckle against his skin.

* * *

When John woke up sometime later, he briefly wondered if he should be weirded out by the fact that he'd fallen asleep with Ford curled around him, but dismissed that thought in favour of stretching and cracking his joints.

What was the point in wondering about odd behaviour in this house anyway? That would be a full time job, so thanks, but no thank you, John decided and rubbed his cheek against the blanket draped over his body, humming softly. He felt warm and happy and sleepy and saw absolutely no reason to get up any time soon until someone pointedly cleared their throat.

Forcing his eyes open, the blond glanced around the room and groaned, pressing them shut again. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"There are some issues we need to discuss, decision you have to make. And I'd prefer sooner rather than later," Mycroft informed him, completely ignoring the question.

"Ugh," John groaned again and glared when the redhead got up, only to stand at the end of the sofa, raising his eyebrows when the teen made no inclination to move and make room for him. _'Tough,'_ John thought grumpily, because this was not something he wanted to deal with, not five minutes after waking up. Well, not at all, really, but whatever.

Mycroft, when it became obvious that the Omega was going to be difficult, sighed and rolled his eyes before lifting John's legs, sitting down and placing them across his lap with a satisfied little nod.

"Do we have to do this now?" John complained and shifted, digging his heels into the redhead's thigh just because he could and he was drowsy and annoyed and sad and... stuff.

Mycroft placed a hand on one of John's ankles and the teen stilled immediately, hating that he enjoyed the touch and the proximity of someone sharing Sherlock's scent. It grounded and soothed him and he relaxed into the sofa with a huff. He glanced up at Mycroft, taking in his features, none of which he shared with Sherlock. Curious that _he_ was the one who had the tendency to turn up and make everything better with a simple touch and his otherwise infuriating calmness.

The redhead observed John for a moment and the teen averted his eyes, not wanting Mycroft to read anything in his face. Which he undoubtedly already had, if the sudden pink tinge to the tips of his ears and the awkward throat clearing were anything to go by.

"I took the liberty of talking to your mother when we came to collect you last night."

"You _what_?" the blond hissed, mortified at the prospect of Mycroft, or any Holmes, for that matter, meeting his mum.

"She was rather set on her decision, I'm afraid."

John's face fell, which was downright idiotic, because he'd known already, it wasn't as if the woman had been a loving or caring parent up until the incident either. Still, he couldn't help but feel a certain tightness in his chest. His own mother had effectively disowned him. Just like that. Over something so stupid, nonetheless.

"John, I-" Mycroft began, seemingly puzzled by and not at all sure about his words. "I am sorry this has happened to you. Your mother's judgement is seriously flawed if she is unable, or unwilling, to see how extraordinary you are."

"That's... sweet? Thanks?" John scratched at the back of his head as he sat up, cheeks and neck a dark red. After a moment of consideration, he shuffled closer and buried his face in Mycroft's side to prevent any further eye contact before either of them had the chance to make the situation any more uncomfortable.

The Alpha automatically put an arm around John's shoulder and pulled him close, resting his chin on top of the teen's head.

"All right, tell me," John sighed after a moment of quiet, much needed human contact, pressing his face into Mycroft's shirt. "What's gonna happen now?"

"That is entirely up you." Mycroft's hand began stroking up and down John's arm and shoulder. "You are very welcome to stay with us until, well, until you are able to move back with your family or can afford and maintain a flat of your own after you come of age. Daddy _insists_ we keep you here, of course, but there are other options."

"What kind of options?"

"Foster families, homes, institutions-"

John grimaced. "Those sound terrible."

"Quite, yes."

"I don't want to impose, Mycroft," the teen mumbled against the man's chest, biting at his lips. "I have no money and-"

"Ah, about that." John could feel Mycroft smile against him. "There is a trust fund, is there not?"

"Well, yeah, but I can't use that 'til I turn twenty-one. Dad set it up that way, was afraid I'd throw all of it out the window if I got it earlier. Or that mum and Harry'd spend it on booze."

"A reasonable assumption," Mycroft chuckled, earning himself an offended huff. "There are ways around such a blockage, John. It would hardly be an obstacle to access the money."

John pulled back, eyes wide. "Seriously? You could get me the cash so I could pay for school and stuff? And for staying here and all that?"

"No," the redhead shook his head, directing a pointed look at John. "But it wouldn't be impossible to use the fund to pay for your education, daily necessities and provide you with a weekly allowance. Strictly monitored, of course."

"No party money, then?" the teen grinned and Mycroft pursed his lips in a feeble attempt at being annoyed. "Fine, yeah, all right. That does sound good, actually." He hesitated, chewing on his cheek before he continued. "But what about Sherlock?"

Mycroft tilted his head, his expression softer than before. "My brother will have to deal with his issues. Not everything revolves around him, no matter how much he might believe otherwise. Or, in short, he'll get over whatever idiotic problem scenario he has constructed for himself in his head. Don't worry about it."

Somewhere between amused and totally confused, John just nodded. "Okay."

"Well then, it is decided," Mycroft announced, unable to prevent his lips from twitching upwards at John's excited expression as he got up and straightened his clothes. "Things will be set in motion and I shall inform you as soon as everything's settled."

"Thanks, Mycroft. Seriously." John grabbed the man's wrist, smiling up at him. "I don't- without you guys, I wouldn't know how to... you know."

"We do hold our family very dear," the Alpha shrugged matter-of-factly, free hand coming up to cup the boy's face for a moment, thumb stroking over his cheek.

"Yeah, but I'm not part of-"

Mycroft sighed his 'how very droll'-sigh and turned after reassuringly patting John's shoulder. "Don't be stupid, John," he said over his shoulder, grin audible in his voice, and quickly slipped from the room.

"Ah, there's the brotherly resemblance," John muttered and smirked to himself, falling back down on the sofa in what he supposed was now his room. _His room_. He let out a shaky breath and covered his face with both hands, smiling goofily up at the ceiling.

* * *

"John."

The young Omega looked up at the new voice, at Ellie, standing in the door, chewing her lower lip. And then she smiled, knowingly and sad, and John's heart clenched with the pain of what had happened and the girl was on him, curling around him, pressing sweet little kisses to his cheeks, his eyelids, into his hair.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled against the boy's skin, their faces pressed close together. Her arms came up to wrap around John's shoulders, pulling at him in an impossible attempt to bring him nearer still. "I love you."

John blushed, glad that his face was hidden from sight. "I- what-" he stammered, but the girl was already jumping up to retrieve her bag. The Omega watched, a fond smile spreading across his face, as his friend unpacked a six pack of Guinness, a ridiculously enormous carton of cookie dough ice cream and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' on DVD.

"Comfort food," the young Alpha grinned, tossing him the ice cream, and bent down to insert the disc.

"Spoons?"

"Mini bar."

John rolled his eyes - Seriously who had a mini bar in their lounge? And who the fuck had a lounge anyway? - but opened the little fridge, finding the desired items and putting the four remaining beers Ellie handed him inside.

"Rules; take a shot every time Frank is witty, sexy, disturbing, inappropriate or having sex, as well as every time anyone's starting a song," the girl chirped excitedly and pulled out another bottle, green vodka, from her bag, setting it on the sofa between them.

The blond snorted, nudging his friend's shoulder. "So basically just drink steadily during the whole movie and try not to die of alcohol poisoning?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Ellie agreed and shrugged. "Oh, and ice cream!"

John, after taking this into consideration for a moment, decided he was totally on board with that plan, opened a beer and toasted at the redhead. "Well, cheers."

"Cheers!" Ellie beamed, pressed the start button on the remote and rejoined her friend on the sofa, wrapping long limbs, blankets and cushions around them until they were cosily settled for a night in.

"You're nesting," the boy teased when the Alpha puffed out her chest, proudly looking at her handiwork.

"Are you complaining?" the younger teen asked and quirked an eyebrow.

John smiled into his beer and shook his head, tugging at Ellie's hand until she was more or less sprawled over him, radiating warmth and comfort and security. "Nope, not complaining. Not at all."

"That's what I thought," Ellie sniffed and turned towards the screen, leaving the blond to chuckle to himself.

They were halfway through the movie - and even further through the booze, thank you very much Doctor Furter - when John remembered the girl's 'declaration of love'. He shifted a little, rolling his eyes when Ellie grunted in disapproval, and propped himself up, pressing his nose into her auburn curls.

"You said you loved me," the boy murmured, somewhat embarrassed.

"Hm?" the young Alpha hummed absently, eyes fixed on the screen. "Love, yes."

"You _love_ me?" he tried to clarify and Ellie turned, frowning at him in obvious confusion.

"Of course I do, John. You're my friend, my best friend, my _brother_. Oh, don't look so shocked, you dimwit." She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed, playfully shoving a hand at the other teen's face. "Don't tell me you didn't realise you were part of the family?"

"People keep saying that."

The girl sat up properly at that, intrigued now. "What people?"

"Well, Calvin and Mycroft and Greg." John was biting at his lower lip.

"Ah, see," the young Alpha grinned victoriously. "Daddy never lies, Mycroft doesn't just accept anyone into our clan and Greg is a police officer, so what they say has to be the truth. You're family. Now shut up and let me comfort you."

John laughed as Ellie draped herself back over him, nuzzling her face into his neck. "Thanks," he mumbled into her hair, smiling back when he felt her smile against his skin.

"Family looks after each other, John."

* * *

John just barely managed to prevent himself from squeaking like a little girl when he turned on the light and saw Sherlock sprawled on his - _his!_ \- bed, looking up at the noise of the opening door.

"John."

The Omega rolled his eyes and sighed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Waiting," Sherlock said, as if John should have been expecting it.

"In the dark?"

The Alpha shrugged one shoulder and sat up, revealing a whole lot of naked marble skin, his body only covered by a pair of pyjama bottoms.

John gulped, his mouth going dry as he let his eyes flicker over the older teen's chest. Damn it, he was supposed to be angry.

"For you," Sherlock clarified, somewhat embarrassed, even though _that_ had been perfectly obvious.

After a short argument with himself, John sighed, moved to the bed and flopped down face first, much too tired and a bit too drunk to care about anything but sleep at the moment. Not even about the infuriating Alpha next to him, who was undoubtedly staring holes into his back.

"You are inebriated," Sherlock stated, sounding surprised.

"Mm, very well observed, good on you," the younger teen snorted, mumbling into his pillow. He did shriek, a little bit, when he was grabbed by the shoulder and turned, suddenly finding himself on his back with Sherlock looming over him, narrowed eyes darting over his features.

"You don't normally drink this much."

"You know, you probably shouldn't roll me around like that if you don't wanna get thrown up on," the Omega giggled, hands automatically wandering to settle on the curly-haired teen's hips. "And it's your sister's fault anyway," he added as an afterthought and hummed as he sprawled his fingers over Sherlock’s warm, pale skin, running them up and down his sides, the fact that he was furious with the idiot genius slipping further and further away in his drunken mind.

Sherlock's lips curved up into a grin and he quirked an eyebrow. His voice was laced with humour and no small amount of sarcasm when he spoke again. "My darling sister isn't even old enough to buy beer, John. Do not go around blaming sweet, innocent Ellie for your degeneracy."

John considered that for a moment, realising once again just how young his best friend slash new adopted sister actually was. Not that he doubted her ability to get whatever she wanted, even given her age, but still. Huh. "My degeneracy knows no bounds," he finally grinned cheekily, placed a hand on the back of the Alpha's neck and tugged him closer, meshing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. He could feel rather than see Sherlock wrinkle his nose.

"Her taste in alcoholic beverages hasn't improved," he sniffed and pulled back a little, cupping the blond's face with both hands.

"Whatever," John huffed impatiently, sneaking a hand between them to cup Sherlock through the fabric of his trousers, frowning at the lack of any arousal whatsoever.

"You are drunk," the older teen murmured, seeing John's confusion, and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Very drunk."

John just blinked up at him, puzzled, his own erection not caring a whole lot about his blood alcohol level.

Sherlock sighed and shifted them both until he was spooning the shorter boy, face comfortably nuzzled into the short blonde hair. "I refuse to participate in anything that could be viewed as not fully consensual once you've sobered up."

The Omega craned his neck to look at the other teen's face, rubbing their noses together with a content little hum. "No taking advantage of me? No ravishing?" he asked jokingly as he settled back against Sherlock.

"No."

"Why not?" John whined, trailing a hand along the arm Sherlock had thrown over his waist, delighted at the goose bumps the motion caused.

"Because," Sherlock breathed next to his ear, making the blond shiver, "I intend to keep you and it wouldn't do to have you angry with me."

John gulped at that and pressed closer to the older boy, who simply tightened his hold on the Omega and placed a lingering kiss on the pulse point below his ear, carefully nipping around the bonding area, making future intentions perfectly clear. And John let him, melting back against the Alpha, encouraging him to go on with sweet little mewling noises even as everything began to grow fuzzy around the edges.

A very possessive “Mine.” was the last thing John heard before sleep finally took him, Sherlock protectively wrapped around him.


	7. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to help Sherlock through the first stages of his withdrawal. Ellie is badass and having siblings is hell.

** Withdrawal **

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

The retching stopped for a moment and John could hear the older teen make an effort to answer, but then the painful sounding process started up again and all Sherlock managed was a choked "Nnngh."

John winced in sympathy, hand resting on the door to his bathroom. Sherlock had woken him up by clambering over him, lacking his usual grace and finesse, and storming away with a hand clasped over his mouth.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" the blond asked while worrying at his bottom lip. Standing out here instead of in there helping the Alpha was torture to the Omega part of John's brain. And the rest of it too, actually. He scratched lightly at the white wood and was relieved to hear the toilet flush and the lock click open.

Sherlock looked a mess; sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, his face a sickly green colour and his whole body trembling violently. He even had one hand pressed against the wall to keep himself standing upright.

"What-" John began and quickly took a step forward when Sherlock began to sway, circling his arms around the taller boy's waist and supporting him on his way to the bed.

Sherlock slumped down on it face first with an agonised grunt and pulled a pillow halfway over his head, presumably to block out the light John had turned on.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry," John mumbled and switched off the bedside lamp before perching on the edge of the mattress and stroking a calming hand up and down the brunet's spine. He wasn't exactly sure what to do now that he had Sherlock out of the bathroom aside from offering some comfort, so he continued with his ministrations for some time until the other teen seemed to have gained back control over his breathing.

"How about some water," the Omega suggested as he stood up, not really making it a question and not really expecting an answer. He got none and went to fill a glass, setting it down on the bedside table and helping Sherlock into a sitting position with his back resting against the headboard. The lack of resistance was somewhat disconcerting.

Sherlock managed a few swigs before he grimaced and shoved the glass back at John with unsteady hands and closed his eyes.

John put it aside and placed a hand on Sherlock's forehead. The Alpha sighed and leaned into the touch, rubbing his much too hot face against John's cool skin with a content hum.

"You're burning up." John pursed his lips, thinking. Then he got up to get a washcloth from the bathroom and carefully placed it on Sherlock's head after coaxing him to lie down again.

"Aank," Sherlock mumbled drowsily which sounded a bit like 'thanks'.

"You're welcome," the younger boy smiled anyway and bent down, lightly resting his head on the Alpha's chest to listen to his heartbeat, which was racing and uneven. Not good. "At least your breathing seems to be okay. Do feel any tightness in your chest? Muscle tension?"

Sherlock cracked open an eye at that and tried to quirk an eyebrow but didn't succeed, the ruddy thing only lifting up halfway.

"What?" the Omega scowled, trying and failing to look offended. "I'm not a complete idiot, you know."

"Never said you were," Sherlock rasped, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Is that a no, then?" John kept pressing, feeling for the other teen's pulse.

"No tightness, no tension. Slight nausea, sweating, tremors, elevated heart rate," Sherlock rattled of his symptoms while waving about an impatient hand. "Satisfied, _Doctor_ Watson?"

"Oh, yes, I'm _thrilled_ you're in withdrawal and suffering. Very pleased indeed, flushed with excitement."

Sherlock went deadly quiet at the sarcasm and John gulped and considered fleeing out of the Alpha's hitting distance.

"Of course, your sister. Alcohol?" the brunette half asked half stated after a moment, eyes darting over John's face.

"Don't-" John began, cut himself off and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Just, don't. 'kay? Please?"

Sherlock nodded weakly and closed his own eyes again, hand reaching out for the Omega and pulling him close until John was sprawled over the older teen, face pressed into his neck.

"Is this all right? Am I hurting-"

"John," was all Sherlock said, rubbing his nose through the blond's hair, breathing him in. Arms came up and wrapped themselves around John's back, holding him firmly in place. Sherlock wriggled and shifted until he seemed satisfied, which he communicated with a nod and a hum. John pulled up the duvet and wrapped it tightly around the both of them, making sure to completely cover the shivering Alpha.

"Stop fussing," Sherlock complained half-heartedly and pressed a kiss on top of John's head, fingers carding through the hair on the nape of the younger boy's neck.

"Stop doing stupid shit like this," John retorted and Sherlock laughed, caused himself to cough and then cursed, making John giggle and kiss along his jaw while rubbing soothing hands over Sherlock's chest and ribs.

Sherlock nodded off almost immediately and John followed soon after despite being worried about, angry at and - somehow becoming a constant when around the Alpha - inappropriately aroused by the warm body under him.

* * *

It seemed a good idea to let Sherlock sleep through the worst parts of his withdrawal, so John slipped from the room as silently as possible and made his way downstairs. The house was eerily quiet with Ellie in class and the two oldest brothers off at work - and did Mycroft actually, properly live here anyway? A note taped to the fridge informed him that Calvin was out as well, doing some errands and visiting with a friend.

The Omega wouldn't be back until late afternoon, but John was free to help himself to anything he fancied, Calvin's neat handwriting told him. The teen blushed at the bit about how delighted everyone was to have him here and that he was welcome to stay as long as needed, no matter how long that was exactly. He had a feeling it would be rather difficult to convince the Holmeses to actually let him leave again, once the time came. Chuckling at that, he read on and sighed when Calvin told him in no uncertain terms that he would not accept any kind of payment for rent or 'any other such nonsense', since John was family and decent people looked after their families.

 _'We'll see about that,’_ the blond thought stubbornly and opened the fridge to throw together some breakfast, debating with himself and finally deciding against bringing something up for Sherlock. The lanky idiot barely ate as it was and John doubted he'd be able to convince a sick, cranky Sherlock to do anything beside complain and be snarky.

After a moment of consideration, John decided to treat himself to some French toast and began to gather the necessary ingredients, thoughts wandering back to the completely worn out Alpha in his bedroom. He was watching the toast soak when he couldn't take it anymore and fished out his phone, opening a new text message.

He deleted the _'I hate your stupid brother, why the fuck is he doing this to himself?'_ as well as the _'What the fuck am I getting myself into with your stupid brother?'_ and groaned, pressing his free hand against his forehead.

 _'Sherlock is sick, any advice?'_ seemed straight-forward enough and John hit send. Ellie would know what he was talking about and really, he was completely out of his depth here. He'd thought about texting Mycroft for a second, dismissing that with a shudder, fearing the redhead would actually turn up, which would surely lead to him and Sherlock getting into one of their arguments and John banging his head against a hard surface in order to deal with their stupid rivalry, the consequences of which he'd already heard more than enough about from Ellie.

The girl's answer came as John put the first piece of bread into the frying pan.

_'Let him sleep, he's going to be a fucking mess as it is. Force him to drink plenty, promise sex if he doesn't want to. Not that I have personal experience with that, but I'm sure it'll work with you. Don't listen to anything he says and don't let it get to you if he lashes out. He doesn't mean any of it. Check his sock drawer, the second pack of test tubes from the left on the highest shelf over his desk, inside the lamp and behind the loose tile in his bathroom. Flush everything you find and don't worry, he'll be angry with me, not you. Have fun. xx'_

Right. The teen stared at his mobile for several long moments, blinking owlishly. He still had a hard time grasping just how easy it was for them all to talk about Sherlock's addiction, almost as if it was nothing more than some minor inconvenience for them. Then again, pretending the problem didn't exist probably wasn't the smartest of moves either - see Harry, for example. And John could not, for the life of him, imagine Sherlock giving in to pleas from his family, the Alpha was much too stubborn for that, just as Calvin had said.

So _maybe_ the Holmes way of dealing with this mess wasn't the worst way imaginable. John sighed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They seemed to manage, but would he be able to? In the long run? Over and over again? He groaned again and kicked one of the barstools. Why did he have to fall in lo-

Nope! Abort! He was not dealing with his feelings right now, on top of everything else. Even if his feelings for the infuriating genius were the sole reason he was here right now, having this miniature panic attack.

"Right, focus," the blond ordered himself. Stalling, yes. That would work. Screw it, he was allowed a bit of cowardice now and then, wasn't he? Especially after his whole life had just taken a turn to Fuckville the day before yesterday.

_'Why are you texting back? Shouldn't you be in Geography?'_

The response came almost immediately in form of _'I am!'_ and an attachment. John opened the picture and snorted. It showed Dimmy pulling faces at Mr Rafferty's back while Mike rolled his eyes at the other boy. A beep announced a second message before John had the chance to type out an answer. It was another picture, this time Ellie and Bill, the boy's mouth hanging open in feigned disgust as the girl placed what looked like a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek while grinning manically.

 _'Great, now I'm starting to miss school.'_ the Omega wrote back and then cursed, jumping forward to save his breakfast.

Ellie was obviously really bored and had decided texting was much more interesting than her lecture. _'Ah, come on, it's me you miss, isn't it? Admit it, little brother!'_

_'You do realise I'm older than you, right?'_

_'And I'm taller. Your argument is invalid.'_

_'All right, fine. I miss you, my heart aches for your charming presence.'_

_'Promise me to refrain from all further attempts at poetry. For the sake of the English population. Please?'_

_'Oh, shut up!'_

_'Love you, too.'_

Grinning, the teen piled the toast slices on to a plate, sprinkling them with a generous amount of sugar and cinnamon. There was another text waiting when he sat down at the bar.

_'If it's too much, just kick him out. I'm assuming he's in your bed, knowing him. And you. But seriously, John, you don't have to do this. You owe him nothing. I know you're head over heels for the prat, but you don't have to sort out his shit. I know you want to, but think about yourself once in a while, 'kay? And tell me if he's particularly vile, I'll hide his microscope.'_

John smiled at that, stroking a thumb over the screen. Ellie had a talent of making him believe everything was going to be fine. And who said it couldn't be?

 _'Ranting session about Rafferty when you get back? x'_ he wrote back eventually, because he was still a boy and that was the closest to 'Thank you, you have no idea how ridiculously much you mean to me.' he dared voicing out loud. Or texting. Whatever.

_'Oh, most def! Bill has a few choice words as well. Can't tell you via text, though, in case Mycroft's reading along. Talk later! xxxxx'_

_'Don't overdo it with the kisses, you're making me blush. And what do you mean Mycroft reads our conversations?'_

_'XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX'_

* * *

John found something in every single one of the hiding spots Ellie had pointed out and tried - and failed - not to be disappointed as he flushed baggie after baggie of white powder and pills, several vials of unassuming clear liquid and the pack of cigarettes as well. For good measure. And because he was pissed.

"You complete and utter idiot," the Omega sighed and watched the last few flakes of tobacco swirl away before dropping the lid and turning off the light on his way out.

* * *

"Ungh," Sherlock groaned as he flopped down in the armchair, draping himself over John who huffed out a breath at the additional weight and shifted to allow the Alpha to curl up in his lap.

"Feeling any better?"

Sherlock's glare clearly said _'What the fuck do you think?'_ and John held up his hands in surrender before placing one in Sherlock's hair and the other on his lower back.

"Want some breakfast? Or lunch?" the younger boy quickly corrected himself after a glance at the clock.

The brunet grumbled and buried his face in the Omega's neck.

"I'll take that as a no, then," John sighed, pressing his lips to the top of Sherlock's head.

"You didn't have to flush the cigarettes as well," Sherlock pouted, nuzzling at John's throat and rubbing his nose over the pulse point below his ear.

John went still, cursing inwardly and preparing himself for the anger. He had, after all, just destroyed an addict's complete stash. "You checked?"

"It was my emergency supply, in case I ever failed to acquire fresh product," the older teen went on, ignoring the blond's question. He hesitated, then, pressing even closer, his hands curling into John's jumper. "My dealer, we had a sort of falling out, if you can call it that. He's gone. I would have used it, sooner or later."

"You hadn't yet, though."

"No." Sherlock smiled against the Omega's skin, following the motion with a quick kiss. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

_"Whom."_

"What?"

"Don't be an idiot, John, it's not very becoming."

"Ta."

They fell silent, John pondering Sherlock's words - surely _he_ wasn't enough of a distraction for Sherlock to even consider turning away from the drugs?

"Of course you are," the curly-haired boy sighed tiredly, chuckling weakly at John's mind-reader accusations before continuing somewhat hesitantly. "What you did... whit the... the rest of it. That was... good. I am terrible with temptation."

John grinned, relieved. "Is this your way of saying thank you?"

Sherlock sniffed. "No."

"Which means yes?"

With a groan, the Alpha heaved himself up and strode out of the room without so much as a glance back. John rolled his eyes at him, the fond sort of eye rolling, and almost fell over his own feet when Sherlock called from the hall for him 'hurry up and come back to bed'.

* * *

"Sherlock, you should really eat something. Or at least drink some more water."

"Don't mother me, John."

"I'm not-"

"Piss off!"

With a sigh, John watched Sherlock storm from the room and listened to the angry slamming of a door a moment later.

"Bugger."

* * *

John was secretly glad and somewhat touched when Ellie kept checking in over the course of the day.

_'How's it going?'_

_'Your brother is a pain in the arse.'_

_'Are we talking literally, or...?'_

_'Oh my god, we are NOT talking about THAT! Go back to class, you little pervert!'_

_'Spoilsport.'_

Well, touched and a bit grossed out.

* * *

Long arms wrapped themselves around John's waist as he sat at the bar reading, a chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

"Make me tea?"

The blond smiled at the kiss being pressed to his cheek and accepted it for the apology it was, sliding off the stool to flick on the kettle.

* * *

John woke from his doze in the late afternoon - just how much had he drunk the night before to be able to sleep all day? - to Calvin scurrying around Sherlock's room, picking up laundry and rubbish as he went.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the redhead straightened up and smiled at the teen, soundlessly walking over and crouching down next to the bed. "Apologies, I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly, brushing a thumb over John's cheek.

"'s fine," the younger Omega mumbled, lips twitching with faint amusement when Sherlock moaned and rolled closer to him to glare at his father over the blond's head. A small part of his mind told him he should be embarrassed to be found by someone's parent while said someone was lying in bed with him, half-naked and possessively pressing a hand to the small of his back. Yet neither Holmes man seemed to care much, personal space and boundaries somewhat obscured in their family anyway, so John figured it was all right.

"Go away," Sherlock demanded hoarsely, making Calvin's features take on a hint of concern.

"You're burning up," the man observed with a sigh, pressing a hand to his son's forehead before tucking an errand curl back behind his ear. John inwardly marvelled at the fact that Sherlock not only allowed the touch, but even leaned into it with a content hum, briefly closing his eyes.

"Yes, that seems to be one of the side-effects of running a fever," the brunet grumbled, breaking the peaceful moment and causing both John and Calvin to roll their eyes at him, which in turn caused the Alpha to huff and pout and bury his face in John's neck.

"Don't be childish, Shirly," Calvin tutted and placed a kiss on either teen's head before standing up to leave the room, wrinkling his nose at one of the vials on Sherlock's desk.

"Shirly?" John laughed as soon as the door fell closed behind the man, earning himself a slap to his backside.

"Shut up."

The younger teen yelped and then continued to giggle, unable and unwilling to stop himself. "Oh, come on. I think it's ador- _mmpf!_ "

Sherlock triumphantly smirked against his lips and John decided he wasn't about to complain about the other teen's method of silencing him - it was far too enjoyable.

* * *

It was clear that Sherlock was too exhausted to do anything serious, he even had to admit it himself - grumpily so, mind you. It was what he dreaded most about these situations; the inability to occupy himself, to do anything but lie around all day like a bloody invalid. He couldn't even think properly, for heaven's sake! His brain was protesting, his head filled with an almost unbearable whizzing, relentlessly pounding at the inside of his skull.

It happened every single time he quit and the problem was that it didn't get better after the withdrawal - which was still not the right word, because Sherlock Holmes was not an addict - it only ever got worse. After the initial euphoria of 'being clean and healthy and more active and full of energy than ever' wore off, his mind spiralled right back into boredom. Without the drugs to focus his thoughts he was bored. So _dreadfully_ bored.

"Stop it," John mumbled and rolled over and half on top of Sherlock, pressing a tired, sloppy kiss to the Alpha's collarbone. "Stop brooding."

 _John._ Sherlock's whole body tingled at the contact with the Omega and he felt pathetic for it, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. John was warm and soft and somehow, in an inexplicable and completely ridiculous way, his scent and his touch made Sherlock's always-running brain go quiet, filled with nothing more than a content sort of hum. Physically, he still felt like crap, aching all over, feverish and shivering, but what was a bit of discomfort of his transport compared to the usual agony in his head? The agony which seemed to grow weaker the closer the younger teen got until it finally extinguished completely at the lightest, briefest contact.

Not even the most delightful of chemical cocktails had ever silenced the never ending chattering in his head so effectively, they'd always been a temporary solution. Could John, simple, ordinary John, prove to be more than that? More and better and forever? A new addiction yes, but a relatively safe one.

"Sherlock?"

The curly-haired teen realised belatedly that he hadn't said anything to John in some minutes, the blond now checking his temperature in obvious concern. Ignoring his protesting limbs and back, Sherlock shifted until he had John pinned under him, face nuzzled into the younger boy's neck. John's arms settled around him automatically and Sherlock smiled, rewarding the skin beneath his lips with a series of gentle, lingering kisses.

John relaxed against the Alpha, hands stroking over his back and ribs, everything he could reach from his position. "How are you feeling?"

"Just marvellous." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his voice lacked its normal sharpness and bite. John snorted and chuckled, kissing the top of Sherlock's curly head.

"Git," he said fondly, brushing his lips over the Alpha's brow. Sherlock sighed agreeably, nestling closer. John hesitated for a moment before posing his next question. "Where did you go yesterday? After sneaking out? Which was a bitch move, I might add."

Sherlock frowned, pulling back a little in order to study John's face. The Omega looked hurt, which, he supposed, was a given and yes , somehow, a bit his fault. But there was more, something that lingered deeper, a kind of tension Sherlock couldn't place at first and then... jealousy? _Oh!_

"The morgue at Saint Bart's," he answered truthfully, figuring straightforwardness to be the best course of action at this point.

"What? Why?" John sounded puzzled.

"Thinking. Experimenting."

"What kind of 'experiments' would you be doing in a morgue?" the Omega asked blankly. And then, "How did you even get access to the morgue in the first place?"

"I have my methods," Sherlock shrugged.

John scrunched up his face, huffing incredulously.

"And I was testing the formation and progression of bruises on a freshly deceased Caucasian male."

"Okay. Why?"

"Lestrade's got a case and he's completely out of his dept. As always," the older teen sighed as if the general public's dullness and stupidity caused him a great deal of pain.

"Greg?" John guessed, pulling Sherlock close again to rest on his chest. His hands found their way into the genius' hair without thought, stroking and caressing. "What does he do, anyway? Well, you said 'case', so I guess police work?"

"Mm, exactly. Homicide. A body was found in a hotel wardrobe and they immediately jumped to the conclusion that it had to be murder."

"Sounds logical."

Sherlock tsked. "Only if you don't know all the facts, John. Autoerotic asphyxiation. They saw the rope and the injuries and didn't bother to look any further."

"But you did?"

"It’s a hobby," the brunet shrugged, startled when John barked out a laugh and turned them once again, straddling Sherlock's hips.

"That's macabre," he chuckled, teasing his fingers over Sherlock's belly. "And you proved that it wasn't murder?"

"Yes. After his death, the man fell rather unceremoniously and hit the installed safe on his way down, hence the bruising. I proved that it was acquired post mortem and Lestrade agreed to look into the whole matter again."

"He just lets you waltz all over his work?" John demanded, sounding doubtful.

"No. He simply hasn't found a way to stop me 'waltzing' yet," Sherlock smirked, delighted when the Omega's face split into another breathtaking smile.

"God, you're an unbelievable pain in the arse, aren't you?" John giggled, tilting his head to look at the Alpha affectionately. "I mean, don't get me wrong, what you did sounds really impressive and I'd love to hear more, but I can just imagine you shouting and being pissy and annoying and-"

John never got to finish his sentence, being pulled down to meet Sherlock's lips by a hand on the back of his neck.

"What was that for?" the blond breathlessly asked against Sherlock's mouth, rubbing the tip of his nose against the older teen's.

Instead of answering, Sherlock just crashed their mouths together again, smoothing his hands over John's back and holding him close. John, who wasn't repulsed or terrified, but intrigued and interested. John, who made the world stop spinning an anchored him in the here and now. John, who kissed him back enthusiastically, smiling against his lips and making the most delicious little sounds imaginable. John, who fit so _perfectly_ that it was the best and most terrifying thing Sherlock had ever experienced.

* * *

Ellie closed her eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths to brace herself.

She'd done this at least a dozen times over the last two years, the same procedure over and over again; a new low, withdrawal, recovery, improvement, promises and then a plunge right back into the dark abyss of addiction. Every single fucking time.

The young Alpha groaned and rested her forehead against the wall.

Not this time. Fuck Sherlock and fuck the fact that she loved the fucking fuckhead despite all his fucking... _fuck!_ Not again. Or rather, one last time. One last chance and then that would be it. No more.

Sherlock, the stupid, blithering idiot, had John, for heaven's sake. _John._ The levelheadedness to his impulsiveness, the calm to his storm, the _'No, absolutely not!'_ to his _'I should blow this up and pour acid over that!'_

John's crush had been obvious right from the start and Sherlock's interest hadn't gone unnoticed either by his siblings. Yet the two dimwits had been pining and fawning over each other for weeks and Ellie could still kick herself for interrupting their snogging that one time she'd walked in on them. But no matter, they'd managed in the end - at least the physical part, the rest was bound to follow soon - and the girl had won their bet and collected from a fuming Ford and a slightly peeved but also quietly pleased Mycroft.

Everyone in a five-hundred kilometre radius realised, on first sight, how perfect the patient Omega and the arrogant Alpha were for each other, apart from the two that mattered most.

Fucking idiots.

With a sigh, Ellie pushed herself off the wall and rapped her knuckles against Sherlock's door, refraining from barging in like she usually did. Yeah, she was set on making sure Sherlock and John stayed the fuck together - after realising they were, in fact, together - but she had no interest whatsoever in catching them doing _something_.

"Hi," a drowsy, bleary-eyed John yawned in greeting, shuffling aside to let the redhead inside. "How was school?"

"Dull," the girl huffed, grinning when she took in the blond's appearance. "Are you hung-over?"

"Lil' bit," the other teen shrugged, indicating with his thumb and forefinger. "How are you not?"

Ellie shrugged back. "Practice, I suppose. Daddy asked for you, apparently you have to try the chicken masala to make sure it's perfect and he absolutely needs to know if you want aniseed on your naan. And yes, he does know it's your favourite dish."

The Omega didn't even bother to ask 'How?' and simply gave a nod instead before glancing over at the sleeping Sherlock, worrying at his lower lip. "He refused to eat all day. And he only drank one cup of 'sorry I fucked up'-tea and a bit of water here and there."

"Go, I'll talk to him," the girl urged, gently but firmly steering John into the hall. "And thank you. Really."

The blond blushed and made an embarrassed, twitchy motion with his hand. "It's nothing."

"We both know that's not true," Ellie smiled and brushed a hand through the older teen's hair, pulling him close for a moment and pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. "Now go."

"All right, fine, I'm going. See?" John chuckled when she began poking him and turned to walk downstairs. "Try not to kill each other, yeah?" he shouted over his shoulder, grin audible in his voice.

"No promises!" Ellie shouted right back, mirroring his expression as she closed the door and then perched on the edge of her brother's bed. "I know you're awake."

"I know that you know," Sherlock countered, only causing the younger Alpha to toll her eyes and deliberately press her cold feet against his shins as she wriggled under the covers to snuggle up to him.

They stayed silent for several minutes, Sherlock earning himself a slap when he protested as Ellie pressed her hand to his forehead in order to check his fever, but otherwise they simply enjoyed the few quiet moments together. The girl ran her fingers through her brother's hair and Sherlock, in turn, rubbed his nose along his sister's hairline, tickling her and making her giggle.

"How serious are you this time?" Ellie asked after a while, the question mumbled into Sherlock's curls.

"Very," Sherlock answered almost too quietly to hear, never taking his eyes away from the pink scar on the underside of the girl's chin - the reason parents told their children not to run with scissors. Well, with a machete, actually, but same principle.

"Don't break John, Lockie. Please. You need him," the redhead whispered, pulling back enough to be able to see her brother's face, one impossible pair of eyes meeting the other. "Promise, _really_ promise me that this is the last time. I won't do it again. I love you, you know that, but I don't want to do this anymore. I need my big brother in my life for as long as possible and if you choose to shorten that time on purpose, well, then you can fucking do it on your own. And I'll take John with me, 'cause he's my brother too and I won't let you break him."

The people who were allowed to talk to Sherlock Holmes like that and not get punched or deduced and ridiculed could be counted on one hand. The number of people Sherlock actually listened to was even smaller. And then there was one person who punctuated such a speech with a punch to the upper arm.

"Do you understand? I'm fucking serious, Sherlock," Ellie growled as she retrieved her hand, flexing her fingers.

"Yes," the curly-haired teen said and nothing more, but held eye-contact and didn't flinch away like he would with just about anyone else, making a mostly silent and surprisingly earnest promise. And then he reached out and pulled his sister close for a peck on the forehead and simultaneously pinched her thigh because damn it, the girl knew how to throw a punch and make it hurt.

* * *

Sherlock was eating. And John wasn't eating, because John was busy watching Sherlock eat - an extremely rare occurrence in itself, but Sherlock was eating and he seemed to _enjoy_ it, which just didn't happen.

And then Sherlock encountered a piece of green pepper and there was a "Ugh, green." and he, very unceremoniously, dumped the vegetable on Mycroft's plate, followed by all the other pieces he could find. Mycroft, to his credit, seemed used to this kind of behaviour and merely sighed and began to pick out the red peppers and place them on his brother's plate before going back to reading the file in front of him. He lifted his still packed fork and Sherlock made an annoyed, whining sound in the back of his throat, causing Mycroft to first look at his younger sibling, then at the fork and, finally, with a roll of his eyes, hold it out to the brunet, who grabbed Mycroft's wrist and pulled the hand closer to pick the last red pepper from the redhead's fork.

Obviously satisfied, the brothers went back to their respective meals as if _that_ hadn't been the oddest thing _ever_ , leaving John to stare and gape some more.

"You're food’s getting cold," Ford pointed out and John's eyes snapped up, noticing the man's poorly suppressed, smug smile, and he blushed, quickly averting his eyes again and just barely catching Sherlock shooting him a shy smile.

Ellie let out a giggle and whispered something in French of which John only caught 'mignon', which didn't really help, but both Sherlock and Mycroft whipped their heads around at it.

"What?" the girl shrugged, gaze flickering from the blonde to Sherlock and back again. "They _are_."

"Mm, absolutely. _Trop mignon_ ," Ford nodded seriously, trying to keep his lips from twitching.

Ellie's smirk directed at Sherlock was downright evil. "Herzallerliebst."

"Zum anbeissen," Mycroft added, ignoring Sherlock's murderous glare.

"Shut up, Fatcroft!" the youngest brother snapped, only causing his siblings to laugh and chuckle into their respective food.

"Kein Grund rot zu werden, brother dear," Mycroft drawled, sending both Ellie and Ford into another fit of hysterics.

"I hate you, all of you," Sherlock sniffed and, _oh god_ , John realised, he was blushing.

"That's quite enough," Calvin said from the head of the table, sounding stern but also faintly amused. "Stop teasing your brother," he order and then, with a sly grin, added, "It's positively adorable, Shirly."

Ford almost choked on a piece of chicken and Ellie actually spat some water across the table while Sherlock groaned and got up, pulling a very confused John from the dining room.

"What was that all about?" the young Omega demanded, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Sherlock mumbled and then refused to leave his room until Calvin almost dragged him back downstairs, because, apparently, tonight was movie night and Sherlock was participating and Calvin didn't give a damn if the idiocy of the actors killed him.

So John found himself lounging on the Holmes parents' massive bed once more with Sherlock possessively curled around him and deducing everything about Alan Rickman into his ear until Mycroft yelled at him to be quiet and Ellie scolded Mycroft for being mean to Sherlock - because, as it turned out, only she was allowed that do that - and Ford snapped at Ellie to stop defending 'the annoying prat'. In the end, Calvin threatened to smother them all in their sleep and demanded to know what he'd done wrong to deserve this, raising Satan's spawn all by himself.

John, for his part, couldn't stop smiling at how perfect they were.


	8. Everyone Has Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s still pretty ill and the rest of the Holmes siblings have a decidedly shitty day as well. John’s a natural born healer and consoler and there’s a lot of cuddling.

** Everyone Has Issues **

Rubbing at his eyes, John sighed and shut his biology textbook with a soft _thump_. It was the Sunday before he was supposed to go back to school and he hadn't been this exhausted in ages. His classes were demanding and not attending them only made the homework all the more challenging and the material harder to get a hang of. John wasn't stupid by any means - top five percent of the class, thank you very much - but Hollow Oak hadn't earned its reputation by being lenient or particularly forgiving when it came to missing lessons. Hell, without Ellie taking notes for him during his absence, John would've been screwed. Royally so, in fact.

The young Omega craned his neck to be able to see the girl's face from his position, having made room for himself between Sherlock's clutter strewn all over the sitting room table. Ellie lay passed out on the sofa, the hand still holding her own text book hanging down the side. It was no wonder, either; from what John had been able to piece together, she had spent most of last night in Sherlock's room doing heaven knows what kind of explosion involving experiment with the other teen. The smell creeping out of there this morning and the burn on her nose weren't really speaking for anything particularly safe.

John wasn't complaining about not being invited, though, quite the opposite, to be honest. Sherlock had been clinging to him and following him around the house for days now and it was starting to get on his nerves. Sure, it had been flattering to have the Alpha's undivided attention at first, there had been lots of cuddling and snogging and general lazing about, which was always nice. But a teenage boy could only handle so much of _that_ without _that_ ever going any further and well, it was frustrating. Sherlock was still ill and weak, not up to much more than sitting up or pacing around for a minute or two and even that got him exhausted pretty quickly. So, no sex for John and no sex but a massive amount of everything else meant two blokes being constantly horny which, in turn, meant as much as the two of them being constantly twitchy and snappish.

So yes, John admitted it, he was a bit glad that Ellie had demanded her brother help her - which, in his current condition, meant sit, watch and criticise - with some project and given the Omega an evening to himself in the process. Because the other thing he'd pretty much given up by moving into Holmes manor was privacy. While most of the family at least tried - some more successful than others - to give him some personal space, Sherlock had absolutely no regard for such things, barging into John's room at every hour of the day or night without so much as a knock. And the bloody tit felt it was his right too; apparently having access to John's pants automatically allowed the older teen to take up as much space in John's life as he pleased.

Now that he thought about it, that could lead to some unpleasantness, John mused. As long as Sherlock was intrusive and possessive at home, things were fine - more or less. But what if it happened in public? At school? God, was he ready to properly come out at school and introduce the curly-haired genius as his-

Yeah, what exactly were they now anyway? Shag buddies? The Omega shuddered at the thought. No, that was _so_ not what he was hoping to gain from their relationship. Were they in a relationship? Well, obviously. Right? They'd spent almost every waking minute since John's moving in together, most of the time they shared a bed and, once, Sherlock had climbed into the shower after the blond and they'd ended up on the floor of the tub, kissing lazily. Those were relationship things, weren't they?

Over on the sofa, Ellie stirred and took in a ragged breath, mumbling something in her sleep.

John sighed and got up, giving up on his work for the moment in favour of kneeling down in front of Ellie to brush some curls away from her forehead. The girl wrinkled her nose and huffed, but finally leaned into the touch with a content sigh.

She looked exhausted and worn-out, even now while she was asleep. The dark circles under her eyes were back, more pronounced than they had been during the breakfast in bed, too. John didn't particularly like how pale she was either and the sweat starting to gather on her brow was a bit worrying as well. He placed his hand on her forehead and hissed. Definitely a fever.

_"NO!"_

John groaned as the fist collided with his cheek and fell back, landing on his arse. He stared in shock at the thrashing girl, who had somehow managed to get caught in the blanket and was struggling to kick it off, her expression becoming more and more panicked with every passing moment.

"Ellie," John whispered and moved a little closer again. The girl's eyes were still firmly shut, even while she groaned and panted. "Ellie, wake up. Come on, you're having a bad dream, that's all," he tried and carefully reached for one of her hands. He winced, gritting his teeth, when she squeezed his fingers to a point where he was starting to fear they might crack.

After another couple moments of violent struggling, Ellie rolled off the side of the sofa and flopped down on top of the other teen, sending them both sprawling across the floor.

"Eh..." John managed, blinking up at the bleary-eyed girl on top of him. "You okay?"

Ellie stared back for a few seconds, then suddenly jumped up and quickly strode out of the room.

"Right," John sighed, straightened up and made to follow his friend.

* * *

The crystal tumbler shattered against the wall and the young Omega shrank further back against the headboard of the hotel bed, pulling the covers tight around his naked, shivering body.

"Are... are you okay, sir?" the youth asked shakily, watching the enraged Alpha pace the length of the room. He cringed when a pair of impossible, cold eyes snapped over to him.

"Get out!" Aldéric Holmes snarled, teeth bared. "Out, _now!_ "

The Omega opened his mouth, but only managed a wavering squeak. He had to clear his throat several times before he managed to speak again. "Are you sure, sir? You booked me for the whole night and my... my employer, he will need you to pay in full, you know? No refunds."

"Yes, fine," the older man snapped, stalking over to the desk and pulling open one of the drawers. He reached for the bundle of bills and the pack of cigarettes, popping one between his lips as he began counting out the money. "I'll be expecting you at the same time tomorrow."

"Yes, of course, sir," the teen stammered, quickly slipping out of the bed and into his clothes. He accepted the money Aldéric held out to him with a shaking hand and flinched when the Alpha's fingers curled around his wrist.

Aldéric smiled down at him, free hand possessively sprawling over the Omega's hip, making him wince when the motion put pressure on the already forming bruises there. The Alpha dipped his head and grazed his teeth over the younger man's neck before planting a lingering kiss just below his ear.

"Don't be late again," he warned and quirked an eyebrow, gaze flickering to where he knew he'd left the angry red marks on the youth's back earlier. Punishment. Discipline. He smiled at the memory, ignoring the Omega's terrified whimper.

"I won't be, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

After another moment of wallowing in the still present post-coital pheromones and chemicals, Aldéric stepped back and turned away, reaching for the box of matches on the desk. "You're dismissed," he said absently and waved an impatient hand at the youth, already occupied with his mobile.

The Omega murmured his thanks and hurried from the room, clearly relieved. Aldéric barely noticed, focused on the ringing phone pressed to his ear. It clicked and connected, though the person on the other end remained silent.

"Cerise-"

* * *

_"Cerise-"_

"Don't," Ellie breathed weakly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Don't even start."

_"Are you all right?"_

The girl laughed, a hollow and angry sound. "As if you give a shit!"

_"You are my daughter-"_

"And I probably interrupted a shag or something, which is why you're ringing and pretending to be concerned. I'm so sorry my fucking night terrors are an inconvenience and keep you from further destroying our family, _father!_ " she snarled, spitting the last word out in disgust.

Aldéric sighed on the other end of the line, sounding resigned. _"Cerise, ma petite-"_

"Don't patronise me," Ellie snorted, rubbing a shaking hand over her forehead.

_"Ma puce, it breaks my heart to know you are unwell."_

"Oh, that's rich," the teen mocked, voice dripping with anger and disdain. "You, father, do not have a heart. Severing our bond was the most painful, agonising thing I've ever done in my life. I wake up screaming almost every night, hurting and writhing and crying and the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you suffer just as much as I do."

_"Cerise-"_

"I despise you," Ellie hissed and ended the call. The mobile was tossed across the room with a furious cry, bouncing off a shocked, fidgeting John's thigh and landing by his feet.

"Are you-" the Omega began, only to have the girl jump up and slam the door in his face with a quick and wholly unconvincing "Fine!"

"John?" came Calvin's questioning voice from downstairs. "What happened?"

The teen sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before walking over to the stairs, peering down at the older Omega who was standing in the kitchen doorway. "It's fine. I think." He hesitated, torn between telling - he was concerned, all right? - and respecting his friend's privacy. Then again, her night terrors weren't really a secret, were they? "Ellie had a nightmare and then someone called and she ran off."

"Ah," Calvin grimaced. He beckoned John to follow him back to the kitchen, where he filled the kettle and flicked it on. John couldn't help but smile; making tea was always the man's first instinct whenever a problem arose. A habit the teen shared wholeheartedly. Tea did make everything better, after all.

"Here, let's hope that won't bruise," the man said, startling John out of his thoughts as he placed a steaming cup down in front of him on the bar and held out a towel filled with ice cubes. "For your cheek," he clarified, amused, when the younger Omega only gave him a blank look.

"Yes, right," John murmured. He'd completely forgotten about being punched in the face in his worry about the younger teen. Now that he'd been reminded, his cheekbone did hurt a bit. He pressed the ice against it and hummed a 'thanks' into his tea. "Ellie, she... eh, she said something. On the phone," John began after a moment of silence, unsure how to proceed. He had a pretty good idea who she'd been talking to, even though he'd only caught the final part of the phone call. But if it had been her father, well, then the conversation he'd heard didn't make a whole lot of sense. Like, none whatsoever.

Calvin seemed to understand, though. He nodded and smiled sadly. "My daughter, my wonderful baby daughter, managed to throw a temper tantrum of massive proportions and effectively broke her paternal bond with my husband. Which is what I assume she shouted at him. So, yes. You heard correctly."

John's mouth fell open. If the situation hadn't been serious, the expression would almost have been comical. "That's impossible," he blurted. "I mean, I'm the farthest thing from an expert on... on all _this_ , but you can't just break a bond between a parent and a child. It's not possible!"

"No, it is not," Calvin agreed, shrugging at the teen's disbelieving look. "It's impossible, but it happened."

"Holy shit."

"Indeed," the older Omega chuckled and went to refill their cups, giving John a bit of space and time to take in the information. He'd turned serious again by the time the fresh tea was ready and he continued speaking. "We did everything in our power to fix the situation, but, well. Only a handful of people had seen something similar before and even those specialists were completely out of their depth."

"Yeah, I can imagine," John murmured absently. Calvin sat down next to the teen, one hand coming to run through his short hair in a calming gesture. It was a bit ironic, John thought wryly, that Calvin was the one offering comfort every time they talked about something tragic or traumatic or weirdly sad happening to the Holmes family.

"It didn't help matters that Ellie was entirely unwilling to salvage what was left of their connection and refused to consult with any doctors or see or even talk to her father." Calvin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a few deep breaths to deal with the onslaught of unpleasant memories. "Sherlock was fascinated, of course. The two of them spent months trying to figure out what exactly had caused the break. They never quite got to the bottom of it, but there were some results. About a year after the initial incident I got a frantic phone call from the other end of the world. Aldéric was in pieces, I'd never heard him like that before. He told me he couldn't feel his children anymore. Well, you can imagine what that means under normal circumstances and why he was scared shitless. Turned out my clever children found a way to numb their bonds with their father, for lack of a better word. They shut him right out, pushed him away as far as possible. I think it's the only thing the four of them ever completely agreed on."

"What about the nightmares, though?" John asked, mood set somewhere between fascinated and severely distressed and worried.

"We believe it's the bond attempting to repair itself. She does not talk about the dreams. Ever. Aldéric feels them and it's immensely painful, from what I observed. That is all we really know, however," the redheaded Omega sighed and gave a little half shrug.

John stared into his cup for several long minutes before he finally gathered the courage to pose the question he'd been wanting ask since the beginning of the conversation. Or, if he was honest with himself, ever since Ellie had first mentioned the man all those weeks ago. "What happened? To make all of them hate their father so much?"

"He hurt me," came the short reply and the teen accepted that that particular topic was obviously closed. "Don't worry, love," Calvin smiled fondly as he got up to put away their cups. He leaned down to kiss the top of John's head when the blond pressed against his side and stroked a hand up and down his spine. "This is my house and my husband doesn't come here very often. He never liked London. You're perfectly save here. Well, as safe as you'll ever be running around with my offspring," he grinned, causing John to stifle a laugh by pressing his face into the redhead's cardigan.

* * *

John stood in the hallway, mind still reeling from his earlier talk with Calvin, and frowned at the commotion he could hear but not see. Yet.

There were voices coming from behind the door under the stairs. Furious and clearly displeased voices. Either someone was having an argument down in the basement or doors under stairs didn't lead to basement in the Holmes manor. Which would only be fitting, John mused, given how everything else about the family was extremely extraordinary.

The voices grew louder and before John had the chance to even think about moving away - he hadn't been eavesdropping this time, really not! - the door crashed open and Greg stalked out, expression clouded, _thunderous_.

Right.

"What's wro-"

Greg interrupted the Omega with an angry snarl and headed for the entrance hall, only to stop halfway there, sigh, run a hand over his face and turn around again, walking back to the wide-eyed teen. "Sorry, that was rude. Just... not now, all right? I'm not... _ugh_ , I don't know," the Alpha shrugged sheepishly, shooting John a weak smile and squeezing his shoulders before finally leaving and slamming the door on his way out.

John bit his lip, torn. He took a careful step closer and peeked through the supposed basement door into-

Another hallway? Intrigued now, the teen stepped into the adjacent house, smaller and less posh than the manor. There were doors on either side of the hall and a set of stairs at the end, leading to a second level. Curious, John took a look into the first room. A study of sorts, books and folders taking up every available surface, including the small sofa. His gaze wandered around, finally coming to rest on a shelf above the desk and ah.

Greg and Mycroft were grinning down at him from a picture, taken in a small, cosy-looking restaurant. They both looked younger and Mycroft was blushing, which he must hate and John, naturally, found very amusing. The next picture showed Greg with two other men and a woman, clearly his siblings judging by their appearances. The one photo that caught John's eye, however, had been pushed a bit behind the others by a stray manila folder. He carefully reached for it, smiling fondly. Sherlock couldn't have been older than twelve in it, his face rounder and his muscles less defined, the characteristic pout already in place, though. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by newspaper cuttings and gesturing wildly to an indulging Greg, who was positioned opposite the boy and beamed at him like he'd just done something extremely clever, pride shining in the older Alpha's eyes.

"Sherlock had just solved one of the cold cases Gregory had given him for his birthday."

"Fucking hell!" John startled and jumped, almost dropping the frame at Mycroft's sudden voice behind him. He whirled around, apology for intruding already forming, but stopped when he properly saw the redhead, who, frankly, looked like shit. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Mycroft waved a dismissive hand, rubbing at one of the dark circles under his eyes with the other. "Was there anything you needed?"

"You live in a secret house under the stairs," the blond blurted, because, well, that was pretty neat. That earned him an amused quirk of lips. "But really, eh, did you and Greg have a fight or something? Just, I saw him kinda storm off just now."

The redhead sniffed and turned, making his way back out of the study. "It's nothing you have to concern yourself with, John."

The Omega huffed and followed. "You're the one insisting we're family and that we've to look after each other. And you're clearly not fine, so."

Mycroft levelled him with a stare, expression caught somewhere between exasperated and amused with a flicker of appreciation making a brief appearance as well. "Persistent," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. He led the way to a spacious kitchen, picked up an earlier discarded sponge and began scrubbing the already spotless countertop. "It was merely a little... _domestic_."

John snorted at the disdainful pronunciation of the last word, but moved the stand next to the older man, his eyes following the movement of Mycroft's hands. He couldn't help but wince at the state of them; fiery red and littered with painful-looking blisters most likely caused by the cleaning agent. "You do realise this kitchen isn't really going to get any cleaner, right?"

Mycroft dropped his head, bracing himself against the sink with both hands, and let out a shuddering breath.

Contrary to what Sherlock sometimes threw at him when he was especially bored and frustrated, John was no idiot. Also, an obsessive compulsive cleaning thingy would fit perfectly with everything else he knew about the eldest Holmes sibling's personality so far; protective to a degree of being controlling. And a bit creepy.

"It's not as bad as it used to be," the Alpha sighed, once again easily reading John. Like an open book.

"Well, at least it's not hoarding. Now _that_ would be _a lot_ worse," the teen tried jokingly, actually causing Mycroft to chuckle weakly.

"Yes, I suppose it would be."

John smiled at him and turned on the tap before reaching for Mycroft's mistreated hands, pushing them under the cold stream of water. "Really, the lot of you," he tsked, carefully washing the slightly trembling fingers. "What did you ever do without me, eh?"

"Ignore each other in an attempt to not fall victim to the urge to strangle anyone," Mycroft deadpanned, watching John work with an oddly vulnerable expression for a moment before adding a quiet, murmured "Thanks."

"It's fine," the teen assured with a gentle smile, urging the Alpha to sit down at the bar. "Now, why don't you tell me all about you spying on me and reading my texts while I salvage what's left of your hands?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, his face otherwise utterly blank. "I must say that I have no idea what you might be talking about, John," he sniffed and grinned when John's only answer was a snort and a muttered "Yeah right."

* * *

Yawning and rubbing at his still half-shut eyes, John stumbled down the stairs towards the kitchen. It had been an adventure to disentangle himself from Sherlock, who'd taken to sleeping attached to the Omega like a bloody limpet - if he chose to sleep at all, that is. He had this particular night, climbing into the younger teen's bed at two in the morning, bringing with him the distinct smell of formaldehyde and cigarettes. John had grumbled and scolded him half-heartedly about the smoking, finally silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his throat in apology.

Sherlock owed him so much more than a simple kiss for elbowing him in the stomach an hour after that, John thought grumpily. He'd been inclined to just let it be and get himself something to drink since being a restless sleeper wasn't Sherlock's fault after all. But the stupid sod had had the decency to demand a cup of tea, what with John going downstairs anyway, fully awake and alert and looking up at the blond from under the duvet with his stupid, gorgeous, impossible eyes. And then he'd just put on his most charming smile when asked if he'd woken John on purpose just because he was too lazy to walk downstairs himself.

Fucking twat, honestly.

John flicked on the light switch in the kitchen and startled, hand flying up and to cover his mouth, which didn't do much to stifle the shout of "What the fuck?"

Ford seemed equally surprised, wincing at the sudden brightness. He blearily blinked up at the teen from his position on the floor with his head tipped back against the fridge. "Hi?" the man offered with a sheepish smile, voice muffled behind the kitchen paper he was pressing against his bleeding nose.

"What happened?" John demanded, falling to his knees next to the hurt Alpha without a second thought, prying his hand away from his face to get a closer look.

"'m fine," the brunet slurred and closed his eyes, weakly swatting at John's assessing fingers.

The teen snorted, undeterred by the man's feeble protest. "Like hell you are."

With gentle, careful touches, John cleaned most of the blood off Ford's face using one of the dish towels, revealing several more injuries in the process; a split lip, scratches on his cheek, a nasty-looking gash above his eyebrow and an already swollen eye that was undoubtedly going to be all shades of purple come morning.

"Do you have a first aid kit or something?" John asked, brushing sticky, bloody hair away from Ford's face and wrinkling his nose at the general state of the man. His clothes were covered and grime and puke and he stank like he'd taken a swim in a pool filled with cheap vodka. Among other things.

The Alpha groaned and finally managed to push the teen away and pull himself up, leaning heavily against the counter. His grin when he spoke again was bordering on mad and not the least bit reassuring. "Stop fussing, I've never been better," he stated, almost falling over thin air when he let go of the fridge to wave his arms about.

John jumped to his aid, slinging one of Ford's arms over his own shoulders. "Mm, obviously," he groaned, adjusting to the additional weight of the completely drunk and boneless man. "Where's your room... wait, do you even properly live here? Or is there another secret flat like Mycroft's somewhere behind a bookshelf or something?"

Ford barked out a laugh and set them off in the direction of the stairs, swaying dangerously and stopping every few steps to orientate himself. "Myc's only got his own place 'cause he got married. And 'cause of the mites, 'course."

"Right," the teen frowned, having no absolutely idea what the hell the Alpha was talking about and being too preoccupied with trying not to get them both killed on the way to the first floor. Which proved to be quite a challenge, Ford's feet obviously no longer in synch with the rest of his body.

"Fucking perfect Mycroft," Ford grumbled disdainfully, slumping against the nearest wall as soon as they reached the top of the stairs. "With his perfect career and his perfect husband. Fucking perfect Mycroft."

Sibling rivalry, now they were getting somewhere.

"You can get married, too. If you want, that is," John pointed out while he waited for the man to walk on, still not having any idea where the hell they were headed.

Ford winced at the Omega's words and turned abruptly, wandering off down the hall to the next staircase that led up to what John had assumed was the attic. Apparently the Holmes family did not believe in basements and attics, though.

The Alpha was already one story up when John caught up with him, pushing open the only door in the small front room to reveal a neat little 'granny flat', complete with a small kitchenette, bathroom and a separate bedroom where Ford had stumbled into and collapsed on the bed.

"No one will have me," the Alpha sighed into a pillow, sounding absolutely miserable. "Mycroft's brilliant, Sherlock's fucking gorgeous and Ellie's the most compassionate person I know 'sides Daddy. And I'm just... me. "

Sibling rivalry _and_ an inferiority complex. John wondered if it would help to point out that Ford was brilliant too, the man was an astrophysicist, for fuck's sake. He severely doubted it, though, so he bit his tongue.

He watched him writhe and struggle with the covers for a while, then heaved a heavy sigh. "All right, come on. Let's do this." He started with Ford's shoes, only just escaping a kick in the face - ticklish feet - on two occasions. Then he freed the semi-conscious man from the blanket he had trapped himself in, pulling out his arms before smoothing the fabric back over him. "Do you need anything? Water?"

Ford grunted something incomprehensible and made grabby hands in John's general direction.

"Yeah, I'm not getting into bed with you."

"Why no'?" the drunk Alpha whined and then cheered triumphantly when he managed to grab one of the teen's wrists and tug him closer, effectively causing him to slump down onto the mattress with a huffed out _"Hmpf!"_

"What-"

"Shut up, you're warm," Ford slurred, wrapping long limbs around the annoyed Omega and nuzzling his face into his neck. "And you smell nice."

"You don't," John countered, cursing when he realised that he was officially trapped. In bed, with Sherlock's super pissed brother. Perfect, he thought, rolling his eyes.

"Sherlock's lucky to have you," the man continued with a happy little hum and snuggled closer.

Five minutes, John vowed. Five minutes and nothing more. He was going to wait until Ford fell asleep and then he'd go back down to the kitchen, get his bloody tea and slip back into his own bed for a few more hours.

Yeah, _that_ , he decided and yawned.

* * *

"Fucking hell," Ford hissed and John huffed at the foot being pressed into his ribs. What a pleasant way to be woken, he thought wryly, and tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

"Hold still, would you?" Mycroft tsked. The younger brother grumbled, but there was no more John-poking.

"Is he going to need stitches?" Ellie asked quietly, voice laced with worry.

Sherlock snorted. The eye-roll was almost audible in the gesture.

Sherlock. Wait. _What?_

John shifted, only to realise his legs were pinned underneath... someone? Ellie? With the drowsiness of sleep slowly fading, he also noticed the fingers softly running through his hair.

"He will be just fine," Mycroft tried to assure his sister, though he sounded doubtful. Which, of course, didn't fool the girl. Or Sherlock.

"Yes, he's perfectly fine," Sherlock sneered and John could feel the hand on his head twitch in anger before it relaxed again. "Alcoholism is so much more manageable than a drug addiction," he drawled sarcastically, giving another little snort.

"The difference is your reluctance to submit to therapy," Mycroft snapped, effectively shutting his younger brother up.

Silence followed, only interrupted by the rustle of plastic - bandage wrappers - and the occasional sharp intake of breath from Ford.

Ellie was the first to speak again. "You were doing so well," she mumbled shakily. She sounded scared and John winced, unconsciously pressing his face closer against Sherlock's leg. "What happened?"

Ford sighed heavily and had to clear his throat twice before he was able to form a full sentence. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it, crumpet."

"Don't even try talking your way out of this!" the girl snapped angrily. "And don't fucking call me that, I'm not four years old anymore!"

"Crump-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Elienor!" Mycroft scolded, which only caused Sherlock to intervene.

"Leave her alone," the youngest brother snarled and John quickly sat up and put a hand on his chest, levelling him with a stern look.

"Jesus, calm down you lot," the Omega said placatingly, pushing Sherlock back down into his previous position against the headboard. He glanced from his maybe-boyfriend over to Ellie, who tried to hide how worried she was by scowling furiously, then to Ford, who grimaced at the memories from earlier in the night and smiled sheepishly, and finally to Mycroft, who wore a blank expression which John had learned meant that whichever Holmes was sporting it had no idea what the hell to say or feel. Emotional overwhelming, he'd named it in his head.

Ellie was once again the one to break the silence. "How's your face?" she asked, wincing in sympathy at John's black eye. Without warning, she draped herself across the Omega, circling her arms around his waist and tucking her head under his chin. "Sorry 'bout that," she mumbled into his chest, nuzzling and rubbing her cheek against him.

Sherlock growled lowly. He pulled at the blond and shifted until John was leaning with his back pressed against Sherlock's chest, Sherlock's nose buried in his hair and Ellie now sprawled awkwardly over the both of them. They seemed content, though, so John left them to it, glad for the momentary break in the usually boiling sibling war.

"Don't be possessive, Sherlock. It's not very becoming," Mycroft said, lips twitching upwards in amusement.

Sherlock glared. "I'm not-"

"Being protective? Nesting? Showing pack behaviour?" Ford finished, laughing when Sherlock threw a spare pillow at his face before wincing when it hit his bruised nose. "Twat."

"Mine," Sherlock mumbled sulkily into John's neck, making the Omega feel dizzy and warm all over. He was more than a little surprised when Mycroft reached out and gently brushed a hand through the brunet's curls and Sherlock not only let him, but actually leaned into the touch for a moment.

John wasn't sure exactly how, but the gesture seemed to restore peace between the four siblings as they all began to settle down. Ellie rolled off of Sherlock and curled instead against Ford, who'd come to lie next to his younger brother. Sherlock himself slid down into a more comfortable position and manoeuvred John until they were pressed tightly together, chest to chest. If he hadn't been scared to shatter the somewhat fragile moment, John would've laughed when Mycroft actually tucked his younger siblings in before sliding between the sheets himself and throwing a protective arm over both Sherlock and John, his hand coming to rest on Ellie's side. Ford hummed and shuffled even closer, effectively sandwiching the three teens between the two oldest Alphas.

One part of John wanted to protest, because group cuddling with the Holmeses was just plain weird. Then again, they were his adopted family and he couldn't remember ever having felt more safe or content in his life, not even with his blood relatives.

It also seemed they all needed the comfort after the frankly horrible and emotional day they'd all had and John was most certainly not going to deny them that. And, additionally, seeing them all get along and be so vulnerable, emotions laid bare, felt like a privilege.

With a smile, John buried his face in Sherlock's curls and let the soothing cocoon of security and belonging lull him back to sleep.


	9. Hot And Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is insecure. Sherlock is rubbish at dealing with insecurities. And there's a tiny bit of jealousy.

** Hot And Cold **

Life went on.

After the somewhat earthshaking events of the last couple of months since meeting the Holmes family, John had expected there to be changes, shifts and differences. And there were, _oh god_ , there absolutely were. His life had been turned upside-down but somehow, without being able to pinpoint why exactly, John felt like this was how it was supposed to be, like this was right.

Everything was messy and confusing, silly and weird, sometimes even irritating and annoying. It was also strangely okay.

It was good. _Fine_. It was all fine.

Classes were still either mind-numbingly boring or terrifyingly hard. Ellie kept exceeding expectations which, in itself, was a contradiction, since people always seemed to expect her to do just that anyway. There was talk of moving her along to sixth form and _'just getting that whole secondary education business over with'_ so she could move on and start attending university. Sherlock, on the other hand, still hardly showed up to any of his classes and didn't appear to have any interest in completing anything. There were bets going on how long it was until he'd drop out. Again.

Bill and Ford were already out of the poll. John had refused to participate, but was secretly in agreement with both Ellie and Mycroft. They were convinced he wouldn't go back after the Christmas break, having found something new to occupy his time with over the holidays.

Mycroft took it upon himself to get control over John's trust fund. He sat him down one evening to discuss weekly allowances and refuse compensation for allowing John to stay at the manor and eat the ridiculous amount of food only a teenage boy could gobble down without bursting. Stubborn as he was, John started leaving a small amount of that allowance on Mycroft's desk every Sunday evening.

Money Mycroft simply put back into John's trust, but the teen didn't need to know about that.

Harry was suspiciously absent for most of autumn and the beginning of winter. Her mobile had been disconnected and once John managed to get a hold of the ominous Clara she'd mentioned, he was informed that they'd broken up and she had no idea where Harry was these days. She'd turn up again, John was certain of that. She always did, after all, once her benders were over or she was out of cash and friends. Whichever happened first. Mostly the cash thing, though.

John continued to be worried nevertheless.

Calvin remained sweet and caring and absolutely essential to everyone in the family. He broke up childish fights and settled silly arguments with the patience only a four time father could muster. He had answers to all the questions John asked about their Omega biology, no matter how embarrassing the teen believed them to be.

He also answered the questions John didn't dare ask because he'd rather be swallowed whole by a shark than talk about sex with his maybe-boyfriend with that maybe-boyfriend's father.

Ford continued to feel incredibly - and, if you asked John, unnecessarily - guilty about the whole affair with Holly. Which resulted in John finding the second eldest Holmes sibling protectively curled up against his back every other morning. But that was fine too, because no one seemed to sleep in their own bed for a whole interrupted night anyway. Instead of therapy, the Holmeses cuddled. Apparently.

John's inner Omega and the more animalistic part of his brain purred at the increase of attention and contact. And the rest of him didn't mind overly much either. Getting hugged to death in his sleep was a pretty nice way to go, all things considered, and it definitely beat the total lack of affection that had been the norm in the Watson household.

Aldéric wasn't mentioned unless it was unavoidable. He proceeded to be absent.

Thankfully.

And Sherlock...

Well, Sherlock was Sherlock and the one to get the worst of his moods was John. They went from the rush of a blooming relationship to periods of detached depression with a frequency that left John's head spinning. They slipped from gentle touches and reassuring kisses into cold ignorance and gnawing, crippling doubt.

It was wonderful, it was terrible and John could have cried tears of joy and misery all at the same time.

* * *

John's self-control was praiseworthy. Honestly, he deserved a fucking award.

"Bo-"

"If you say the word bored one more time, Sherlock, I swear to everything holy I'm going to punch you in the throat," John warned, voice completely neutral. He even managed to sound a bit bored himself. Ha, _bored!_

The Alpha huffed from his position sprawled all over John's back, hot breath puffing against the Omega's neck. The humid air was followed by a pair of lips, travelling from the hem of his shirt up the nape of his neck and to his hairline. A cold nose was pushed into short blond hair, rubbing and nuzzling its way up until Sherlock was stretched enough to pear over John's head and down at the open book in front of them.

He plucked the pencil from John's hand with an impatient grunt. "Not that I condone learning a language by writing about flowers of all things," he began, sniffing haughtily as he erased part of the younger teen's last sentence, "but if you have to, I would prefer it if you could at least make an effort to not butcher one of my native languages. It's painful to watch."

" _One_ of your... do you even listen to yourself?" John groaned and tried to snatch the pencil back.

Predictably and as per usual, Sherlock ignored his annoyance. " _Blanche_ , not _blanc_ , John. Honestly, it's not that hard."

John made a successful grab for his writing utensil and squared his shoulders in an equally successful attempt to dislodge the irritating lump on his back. "You're a fucking pest," he decided, but did correct that pointed out bit before shutting the text book and shoving it, along with his papers, to the far side of the bed, turning onto his back.

Sherlock immediately crawled over him, lowering himself down between John's easily parting legs. He bent down to nip at the Omega's jaw, grinning victoriously when John sighed and went limp beneath him.

"Pest," John mumbled again, even as he craned his neck to bare his throat, and pushed his fingers under Sherlock's shirt to sprawl over his hips.

Sherlock latched on to the offered skin and suckled gently, revelling in the soft little noises John made in return. He worked his way up and nipped at the younger teen's jaw before brushing their mouths together. He asked for entrance with a languid swipe of his tongue across the seam of John's lips and was granted access immediately. Taking the opportunity, Sherlock deepened the kiss but kept it slow as he settled his full weight down on top of John, bringing their groins together in the process.

John gasped at the contact and his fingers twitched before tightening their hold on Sherlock's hips and pulling. "Are you sure?" he asked breathily, one hand moving up to cup the back of the Alpha's neck and twirl one of the curls around his index finger.

"Am _I_ sure?" Sherlock quirked an amused eyebrow down at him and gave an experimental roll of his hips. John only barely managed to suppress the moan threatening to slip free.

"Yeah, well, you just went through a few weeks of fucking withdrawal and couldn't do much more than sleep and shiver, no big deal, right?" the Omega snorted. He arched his back and bucked up and this time it was Sherlock's turn to hum with rising pleasure.

John smirked. And that wouldn't do, not at all, Sherlock decided.

"Off," the Alpha snapped impatiently and began to tug at John's jumper and fumble with the button of his jeans at the same time, hissing and cursing when things didn't move fast enough for his liking. Beneath him, John chuckled and squirmed, trying to kick off his trousers while his arms were all tangled up in his sleeves.

After a much too long minute of struggling, Sherlock pulled the offensive piece of wool away from John's upper half with a triumphant "Ha!" and immediately went to attack the remainder of his clothes. The jeans were yanked the rest of the way down and thrown over the edge of the bed, quickly followed by John's pants and socks until, _finally_ , Sherlock was able to rake his eyes over his beautifully nude form.

John's smile had turned lazy as he reached for the Alpha again. "Better?"

"Much," Sherlock confirmed. He shucked the shirt and pyjama bottoms he'd never bothered changing out of that day and pounced. John's breath escaped him with a loud huff at the sudden additional weight, but he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back and held him close nonetheless. Their mouths met and their lips parted in perfect sync, both of them moaning at the first touch of tongues. There was nothing unhurried about their movements anymore, it had become all about need and want and teeth clinking against teeth.

The friction from where their steadily growing erections were pressed together between their bellies was deliciously sweet, nerve endings buzzing with desire, but it wasn't enough. Weeks of lusting and pining, then the short break and blissful night after his impromptu move-out, followed by the torturous days waiting for Sherlock to regain strength and health had left John achingly desperate for more.

"Sherlock," he panted between kisses, moving his mouth to tease a bite over the Alpha's neck. "More, please... I want _more_."

With a growl, Sherlock tore himself away and scrambled for the bedside table, wrenching it open and fumbling for the small bottle he knew had to be there somewhere. He almost flew back to across the mattress once his fingers closed around it, sending John's homework flying in all directions - not that either of them cared particularly much.

John watched in amazement, taking in the older teen's almost completely black eyes and flaring nostrils as he eagerly drew him back in. He spread his legs, allowing Sherlock to settle between his thighs, and let out an embarrassingly loud moan when a hot, wet tongue ran all the way up from the base of his cock to the very tip, circling just once before vanishing again. John made a sound of protest at the loss, only to have it turn into another deep, low whine when Sherlock pressed a slick finger between his cheeks, right above the twitching ring of muscles of his anus. He firmly closed his eyes, his whole body trembling with anticipation and yes, a not insignificant amount of fear. It took him a while to realise the Alpha was talking.

"John," Sherlock whispered huskily, hungry eyes fixed on John's hesitant ones. He placed a delicate kiss first on the Omega's left hip, then the right, and finally a longer, lingering one against the underside of his straining erection. _"John,"_ he practically purred, nuzzling the inside of John's thigh, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive skin with content little moans.

The surge of affection for the usually cold and notoriously private and distant genius was almost overwhelming and when their gazes met again, John gave the smallest nod of confirmation. The initial stretch was uncomfortable, the probing finger causing a slight burn and a sensation bordering on painful, yet not wholly uncomfortable. John's attention was drawn away by the sinful mouth closing around his leaking cock again and he moaned shamefully, trying to push deeper into the welcoming warmth. He hissed when he felt Sherlock carefully insert a second finger, suddenly afraid it would be too much and about to say so, but he was interrupted by a fingertip stroking lightly over what he assumed must be his prostate, going by the violent jerk his body gave and the spike in his arousal.

 _"Oh my god,"_ he gasped, awed, hands shooting up from uselessly twisting the bed sheets only to realise there was nothing else to hold on to. Sherlock seemed to feel the same need for more touch and released John to move up higher, aligning their cocks and grasping them both firmly in his free and thankfully still lube-smeared hand. Through the fog of dizziness, John thought that the position must be awkward and straining for the other teen, but couldn't bring himself to care. He reached out, placing one hand on Sherlock's arm and linking the fingers of the other with the ones moving over their erections.

The fingers inside him were relentless, moving over the bundle of nerves in assured, practiced strokes while their joined hands tugged between them. John could feel his orgasm approaching quickly and gave a sob at the prospect of everything being over already. Sherlock merely sped up and, with one firm pull on their cocks and a well-timed flicker of his fingers, sent John reeling over the edge and falling.

The Omega was dimly aware of suddenly feeling empty, too pliant and sated to mourn the loss, though. He hummed appreciatively when Sherlock settled over him once again and kissed him deeply, following him into the abyss with a few thrusts against John's sweat-slick hip before simply collapsing on top of him.

"Heavy. _Sticky_ ," John complained weakly and managed a chuckle at Sherlock's exhausted whimper. He didn't protest when Sherlock rolled away, only to pull him close, John's back flush against his chest and one arm protectively draped across his hip, hand resting just above his spent cock. "We should clean up."

"Yes, absolutely," Sherlock slurred sleepily and made absolutely no inclinations whatsoever to move from his position plastered against John anytime soon.

* * *

When John returned from school four days later, Sherlock didn't seem to have moved from his spot on the bed where the blond had left him eight hours ago.

He didn't answer John's questions, gave no indication that he was even aware of the other teen's presence and simply stared at the opposite wall with blank, unseeing eyes.

So John crawled on top of him, pulled one of the heavy blankets over the two of them and pressed his nose into Sherlock's curls, waiting.

* * *

John rubbed at his eyes and yawned. He finished packing up the books he'd need at home for the night and neatly tidied the rest of his things away. Just another two hours and he'd be free to go. Only sadists became teachers, he decided and stretched, joints cracking satisfyingly.

He gave a little yelp of surprise when he was abruptly turned around and crowded back against the row of lockers, a warm pair of lips pressed against his before he'd fully processed what the hell was going on.

But Sherlock smiled down at him once he pulled back, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners, and it was such a contrast to the glum teen he'd seen slinking about the house the last few days that John pulled him right back for another lingering kiss. He firmly told the little voice in the back of his head which was whispering _'too good of a mood, chemical assistance, relapse'_ to shut the hell up, enjoying the feeling of the long, lean body pressed against his instead.

"Hi," the Omega smiled when the parted for good, running his hands up and down the brunet's sides. "What are you doing here?"

Sherlock shot him a funny look. "This is where I go to school."

"Could have fooled me," John grinned and Sherlock scoffed good-naturedly.

The bell went and Sherlock grunted, annoyed. "Later," he beamed, briefly brushed his mouth over John's again and darted off.

"Right," John murmured to himself, staring after him with a slightly dubious frown.

* * *

"Sleeping," John mumbled into his pillow when Sherlock flopped down on top of him in the middle of the night and began to nuzzle behind his ear.

"John," Sherlock whined dramatically and slid his hands under the blond's shirt, running them up and down his ribs.

The Omega groaned and bucked his hips in an effort to throw off the other teen who held on tightly and proceeded to straddle him, knees on either side of John's upper thighs.

"You can't keep pouncing on me in the middle of the night, Sherlock. I've got classes tomorrow. In fact, you've got classes tomorrow."

"Dull," Sherlock sniffed, bending his long body to kiss John's tailbone.

John stubbornly forced down the flicker or arousal. "Where have you been the last few days?" he demanded, voice laced with agitation.

Sherlock had flounced off without so much as a goodbye two days earlier, muttering something about France and blackmail. Mycroft had confirmed that he seemed to have crossed the border, but couldn't tell John more than that. He either genuinely hadn't known or had just been practicing being a prick. Either was equally possible, according to Ellie.

"Case," Sherlock exclaimed, sounding pleased as punch. "Oh, John, it was brilliant! And the culprit had even been somewhat clever in his approach, the letters were-"

"You could have called," John interrupted angrily and turned his head to look at the Alpha over his shoulder. "Or texted. Told me where you were, what was going on."

Sherlock stared down at the expanse of exposed skin of John's back, a definite pink tinge to his cheeks. "I forgot."

Seeing him like this, sheepish and sorry - even if he couldn't voice it - made John's irritation melt away, making room for that damned fondness again. "Idiot," he chastised half-heartedly and allowed a small smile to form on his lips.

The Alpha seemed to take that as an offer to continue his previous ministrations and made quick work of ridding John of his pyjama bottoms, carelessly shoving them off the side of the bed.

Beneath him, John's breathing quickened and his heart gave an excited flutter at their current position and what it implied. Ever since that first heated kiss during his sleepover with Ellie and the ensuing exploration of his sexuality, John had been wondering. Wondering what it would feel like to be intimate with someone in that way, to actually have another person _inside_ him. Lots of other people did it and seemed to enjoy it, so it couldn't be too horrible. But would he like it? Would it hurt? Probably, at least at first, if fingers were anything to go by.

He'd also been thinking about the gender question in all of this. He was an Omega, after all, and therefore predestined for this sort of sexual intercourse. His body was practically made for it. As was Sherlock’s, for taking the other part in that as of now hypothetical scenario. Surely he'd want to have penetrative sex sooner or later, right? And not as the receptive partner. It was his, no, _their_ nature. Right?

Besides, John was curious. Very much so, in fact. The first time Sherlock had used his fingers he had been afraid, he could admit that. But it had turned out highly pleasurable, as had the few times after that when they'd experimented further. They hadn't taken that last step yet, though, and John was starting to think he might be ready for-

"Christ," the blond moaned, his train of thought interrupted by a sharp bite to the back of his neck and Sherlock's naked and lubed - when had that happened? - erection sliding between his cheeks.

Okay. _'Breathe, John,'_ the teen reminded himself. Apparently, Sherlock was thinking along the same lines. He would need preparation, though, wouldn't he? John was suddenly glad he was face down so that Sherlock couldn't see him blushing. Fuck, he had no idea what he was doing. Or what was being done to him.

"Relax," Sherlock murmured next to his ear, putting his uncanny ability of reading John to use. He urged the Omega to turn his head so he could steal a quick kiss. "This is merely to take off the edge," he whispered against John's lips and thrust his hips. "I'll see to you afterwards."

He pulled back and placed his palms on John's hips, rubbing his thumbs over the younger teen's back while he moved, cock sliding between his cheeks and over his sensitive hole, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through John's whole body. John could feel himself harden, his own erection trapped between his belly and the bed, and suddenly it wasn't enough anymore.

"Sherlock," the Omega moaned, bucking back against his next thrust. "Do you... can we-" he broke off with a frustrated groan. He could do this. "I want you inside me. All of you. Now. Please?"

The words came out in a whiney rush and as soon as they were in the open, Sherlock went completely still above him. And then John was turned around onto his back, Sherlock looming over him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Please?" John mewled, surprised by his own need and want, but not particularly caring about it at the moment.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment longer before reaching for his cock to gather some of the excess lube. Under him, John smiled victoriously until Sherlock, instead of moving his hand between John's legs, stretched and started guiding his fingers down between his own. He gasped and his eyes fell closed and John stared dumbly, mouth hanging open while Sherlock stretched himself.

John was still speechless when the Alpha straddled him and took a hold of his cock to position it against his entrance. He looked down at the younger teen, waiting for confirmation, and John's mind went blank. He must have nodded or done something else along those lines, because the next thing he knew was Sherlock sinking down on him, not stopping until he was pressed with his arse against John's hips.

"Oh _fuck_ ," John moaned, hands flying up to grip Sherlock's thighs. It was hot and tight, _oh god_ , so tight. And not at all what John had been expecting. He was supposed to be the submissive partner. He'd wanted to be the submissive partner. Why hadn't-

"Stop thinking so hard, you'll strain something," Sherlock said, lips twitching up into a mischievous grin. He rolled his hips and yeah, there wasn't much thinking on John's part after that.

The Omega was aware of Sherlock's mouth on his own, of shared breath and moans he couldn't tell which one of them was making. And of wonderful heat surrounding his cock, _Sherlock_ surrounding him, himself inside _Sherlock_. He came with a chocked-off cry and a thought along the lines of _'Oh my god, I'm inside Sherlock fucking Holmes!'_ after only a couple more seconds.

Not wanting to be a complete bastard and disappointment, he lifted one heavy arm and curled his hand around Sherlock's still straining cock, giving it one long, slow stroke. He pulled back the foreskin and rubbed his thumb over the head before moving back down and establishing a quicker rhythm. Above him, Sherlock panted, eyes closed and head thrown back to reveal his ridiculously pale and beautiful neck. At the sight, John's own cock gave a miserable, exhausted twitch where it was still buried inside the other teen, which seemed to be enough. With a breathless _"John!"_ , Sherlock spilled himself over the Omega's hand and slumped forward, pressing his face into John's sweaty neck.

"Do you want to tell me about the case?" John asked, once he'd managed to bring his breathing back under control.

The smile he got in answer to that was nothing short of breathtaking.

* * *

Sherlock always found an excuse. John hadn't noticed at first, too busy with his new discovery of _'Holy shit, putting my cock inside Sherlock's arse feels amazing!'_

After a while, though, he began to see a pattern. Sherlock never pressed up against him from behind anymore, he avoided using his fingers on John as much as possible and made no attempts at switching and taking John. In fact, it was like he was trying to discourage John, to get him to forget the whole thing altogether.

Which was odd. Not that John didn't like the things they did, hell no! Their sex life was amazing. And their... 'encounters' were frequent. Like, _really_ frequent. Sometimes more than twice a day frequent. And that was pretty fucking awesome. But also a bit odd.

He was fairly sure that Sherlock liked being the top. People talked and the Holmes family was everyone's favourite topic. Especially the gorgeous, mysterious, wayward 'bad boy' aka Sherlock. Not that John enjoyed hearing people talk about Sherlock's private life, but school gossip was unavoidable. And according to those whispers, Sherlock Holmes was the perfect picture of an Alpha; haughty, arrogant, distant and most definitely interested in fucking other people.

Apart from John, as it seemed.

And John may not have known a lot about their society and what it meant to be an Alpha or an Omega, but he knew one thing for sure; if an Alpha was presented with a willing Omega and didn't use the opportunity, there was something wrong. And not something with the Alpha.

* * *

"Sherlock," John managed between kisses, pulling back far enough to blink up at the other teen.

Sherlock sighed but tilted his head, indicating that he was listening.

"Why don't you want me?" the Omega blurted and immediately turned the deepest shade of red. _'Sounding a bit like a needy, clingy idiot there, well done, you,'_ he berated himself. Well, at least it was out now, so there was that.

Sherlock's face went completely blank and he rolled away onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Do we have to do this?"

John swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "I was just wondering why-"

"I'm a gay man who enjoys bottoming, it's not that complicated, John," the curly-haired teen snapped defensively.

"So you _only_ like bottoming?" John asked doubtfully. Sherlock remained tellingly silent. "Look, I'm not stupid. I know what it means when an Alpha doesn't-"

"This has nothing to do with my gender!" Sherlock roared as he jumped up and began to angrily pull on his clothes.

"Then what-"

"John," the older teen interrupted, voice clipped. "What we have, it's... good. But if you keep pushing this, we won't work."

John's heart sank. This was not how any of this was supposed to go. "Is there something wrong? With me? Am I doing something wrong?" he demanded, blinking back the tears he was shocked to realise were even there. "Because if I am, then I'm sorry. You have to tell me if-"

Sherlock left with a slam of the door.

* * *

"And this is the library," John concluded the tour, rolling his eyes at the librarian's pointed _'Shush!'_

Liam sniggered and bent his head, whispering close to the blond's ear. "A bit uptight, isn't he?"

"You could say that, yeah."

Another, very irritated _'Psst!'_ from Mr Willis sent them into a new fit of giggles and the two teens quickly slipped out of the room, leaning against the lockers in the hallway.

"Anyway, that's Hollow Oak for you," John sighed and shrugged, gesturing around. "Nothing special, but it's nice, I guess."

Liam hummed and regarded the smaller teen, a shy smile playing about his lips. "Well, thanks for showing me around anyway. Looked like you were busy when Ms Trent collected you to bestow upon you the honour of introducing the new student to the wonders that are the very foundation of this most prestigious learning facility."

John snorted and playfully shoved at the black-haired teen. "You're an idiot," he laughed.

"I aim to please," Liam sniffed and bowed before straightening again and beaming at John.

"Fuck off," John grinned and leaned his head against the cool metal, watching Liam from the corner of his eye. The other teen seemed nice enough. He was funny and easy-going, a bit of a clown. From what John had been able to observe during their forty minute acquaintance, Liam was a simple, average guy looking for a couple of mates at a new school. "I should introduce you to my friends. Maybe at lunch? You know, if you don't have any plans, that is. But you're new and everything and I thought, well..." he rambled and then trailed off, embarrassed.

But Liam just chuckled and threw an arm around the blond's shoulder. "Yeah, that'd be great," he smiled and then his face fell, only for a fraction of a second, but John had definitely seen it. "Your girlfriend gonna be there?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," John frowned at him.

"That pretty redhead?"

"Ellie? Ew, come on, don't be gross," John shuddered and pulled a face. "She's my sister. Well, not biologically, but in every other sense, really."

"Oh." Liam considered that for a moment, fingers absently tapping on John's shoulder. "So, no girlfriend?"

"Nope."

"Boyfriend, then?" Liam probed carefully, tongue darting out to lick at the corner of his mouth.

John shifted nervously, worrying at his bottom lip. Now that was a bloody good question, wasn't it? Sure, he regularly shared a bed and various bodily fluids with Sherlock, but the stupid tit also vanished for days without saying a single word or simply ignored John when he was engrossed in one of his experiments. And then there was the _thing_ , or rather there was the thing that _wasn't_. And the fact that their last conversation - which had been _five_ days ago! - had ended in what had sounded suspiciously like a break-up.

"Well, kinda," John murmured sheepishly and shot the taller teen an unsure look. "It's complicated."

"He'd be an idiot to waste his chance with you," Liam shrugged and his arm around John tightened, just for a moment, before he let go and stepped back. "Race you to the cafeteria? If we make it before the bell goes we won't have to wait in line," he shot over his shoulder, already darting away and around a corner.

And John, after a moment of confusion, bolted after him with a shout of _"You cheating bastard!"_

* * *

Everyone welcomed Liam with open arms and half an hour into their break it felt just like the dark-haired teen had always been part of their little group.

"That is completely mental," Liam laughed and Bill grinned at him, obviously proud of his 'neat trick' that had gotten him suspended and caused the fire department to close down the chemistry lab for nearly a week.

"I never got to finish my project," Ellie pouted, glaring at the other redhead when he reached over to ruffle her hair.

Bill merely poked his tongue out at her. "Normal people would be glad if they didn't have to hand in their homework, you know."

"We have established by now that I am not what you call 'normal people', have we not?" the girl asked and raised an eyebrow, trying very hard to hide to grin tugging at her lips.

"We were very glad, if that makes ya feel any better," Dimmock chipped in and Mike nodded absently, face buried in one of his books and probably having no idea what he'd just agreed to.

"I could have done without the scorched eyebrows, though," John sighed, only causing the rest of the table to burst out laughing again. He stiffened when he felt Liam's arm wrap around his waist, one warm hand coming to rest on the blond's hip.

Ellie almost choked on her drink and directed a questioning look at him, half amused and half concerned. John shrugged sheepishly, unsure what to do. Was he being flirted with? Or was Liam just being friendly? And if this was a come-on, how did one let someone down gently? Did he even want to do that? Would that be considered cheating? Did he still have someone to cheat on?

This was all Sherlock's bloody fault, John thought and squirmed uncomfortably.

In the end, the decision over how to react was taken from him, however, as Liam was rudely pushed aside, arm falling away from John, and Sherlock slid into the now empty seat. He immediately pulled John close against his side and rubbed their cheeks together before pressing a quick, possessive kiss on the surprised teen's parted lips.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you could manage to keep your filthy little hands off my boyfriend," Sherlock all but growled once they pulled apart, glowering at Liam, who nodded and slid a bit further away on the bench, looking terrified.

"Sorry mate, I didn't know-" he began, but Sherlock waved a dismissive hand in his direction, obviously done with the conversation, and buried his nose in John's hair instead, inhaling deeply.

"Eh, hi?" John finally squeaked and craned his neck to be able to look up at his boyfriend - _boyfriend_ , hallelujah! - and shoot him a tender smile.

The Alpha smiled back, dipping down for another quick kiss, and John's world was suddenly alright again. Not that he'd forgotten their issue, their fight or Sherlock's refusal to talk, but they could work on that. They _would_ work on that, he vowed determinedly. He snuggled closer against the older teen and tucked his head under Sherlock's chin with a content hum, linking his fingers with the ones Sherlock had placed on his hip.

"Now if that isn't the most adorable thing ever, I don't know what is," Bill smirked and then ducked, only narrowly missing getting hit by John's empty soda can.


	10. Father Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the hospital and an unexpected visitor.

** Father Holmes **

The days after Sherlock’s public declaration of their relationship status, John was happier than he remembered being in quite a while. Or possibly ever before.

Which was still an extremely weird concept to get used to, even though the mere thought of what they were now usually made John positively giddy with excited joy.

Sherlock was attentive to a degree John hadn’t thought possible before, made an honest effort at being a good boyfriend and actually answered some of John’s questions without getting angry or storming off in a huff.

He was still reserved and restrained when they talked about his reluctance to top, but John eventually wore him down and Sherlock confessed that he was afraid of what taking that next step would mean, how it would almost inevitably lead to bonding sooner rather than later - even the most strong-willed Alpha only had so much control over their nature in the throes of passion and clouded in pheromones - and make their union pretty much permanent.

Which wasn’t necessarily something John was against, although the prospect of being irrevocably, for all intent and purpose, bound to someone for the rest of his life was somewhat daunting.

So they agreed to wait. There really was no rush, John figured, although he was more than a little curious about exploring this aspect of his sexuality and a bit disappointed that Sherlock apparently wasn’t willing to go completely steady yet, despite knowing, rationally, that it was for the best.

That aside, John was on cloud nine, indulgent to Sherlock’s possessive looming and generally unbothered and only blushing a little whenever one of the other Holmes siblings hinted at having heard what they’d been doing behind closed doors.

Or not so closed doors, but that had been one time and entirely Sherlock’s fault!

***

It all began to go downhill a week after the Liam incident when John and Sherlock came home after a quick trip to the station to visit - or bug, depending on who you asked - Greg to find an ambulance, lights flashing and throwing intimidating shadows against the surrounding houses, parked in front of the Holmes manor and Mycroft talking animatedly with one of the paramedics, fear and worry written clear as day across his normally stoic features.

“Where is he?” Sherlock demanded immediately, his grip on John’s hand turning almost painful, and strode over to his brother, more or less pulling John after him.

Before Mycroft could fully turn to face the two of them, Calvin, sickly pale and fixed to a stretcher, was already carried out of the door, followed by a shaking Ellie who began to cry the moment she spotted Sherlock, stepping under his offered arm as soon as their little convoy reached the street.

“Your father is going to be fine,” said the doctor after finishing her conversation with Mycroft, smiling softly at the distraught group gathered around her while Calvin was loaded into the back of the ambulance. “He requires hormone injections and a glandular scan just to make sure. We’d like to keep him overnight for observation since you mentioned this isn’t his first collapse, but he’ll be good to go home by morning.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft, polite despite the circumstances, nodded before giving Ellie a gentle nudge. “You stay with him, we’ll take the car.”

“Ford?” Ellie wanted to know, chewing on her bottom lip and not budging yet.

“Already on his way to the clinic,” Mycroft promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now go. He shouldn’t be alone.”

That did the trick and Ellie hurried to clamber in next to her father, John just catching a glimpse of her taking one of his limp hands between hers before the doors closed.

“What’s happening?” John asked as Mycroft shuffled him and Sherlock in the direction of the garage, pulling out his keys as they went. “What’s wrong with him?”

They slid into the car, John and Sherlock pressed close together in the back, but the brothers kept quiet, fighting a battle via dirty looks which Mycroft, going by the sigh and the slump of his shoulders, seemed to lose in the end.

“Our father suffers from a chronic condition affecting his cervical glands-“

“Which produce and distribute Omega hormones to the whole body, creating scent and-“ Sherlock cut in, only the be interrupted again by Mycroft.

“Would you like to explain the matter at hand?” he asks testily, watching Sherlock in the rear view mirror and muttering a low “That’s what I thought,” when the younger Alpha pressed his lips into a thin, firm line and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.

“It is not an uncommon issue in male Omegas of a certain age, comparable with the beta female equivalent, menopause, only ongoing for much longer. At some point the glands fail to continue with the hormone production which can have relatively harmless consequences such as headaches, occasional dizziness and fatigue. In more unfortunate cases, the biological disturbance causes long-lasting migraines, intense joint pains, circulation problems and even seizures.”

“I take it Calvin is one of those unfortunate cases?” John guessed, his suspicions confirmed when Mycroft met his eyes in the mirror. He added, somewhat incredulously, “There’s no treatment?”

“There are several treatment options,” Mycroft sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Regular injections if the symptoms are mild or the surgical removal of the glands if the artificial hormone boost is not sufficient.”

John risked a glance over at Sherlock who was staring out of the window, jaw set and teeth clenched. “So why not remove the glands? Is it dangerous or something?”

Every surgery came with a bunch of risks and the possibility of failure, however small a percentage that was. Calvin, John mused, would be the one to put his family’s wellbeing over his own, not wanting to take the chance and leave the four siblings to fend on their own.

And probably throttle each other within days of his passing.

“Not particularly, no,” Mycroft dismissed and John frowned, confused.

“Then why not have the surgery?”

Next to him, Sherlock gave a humourless snort and in the front seat, Mycroft refused to meet his eyes once again.

“Removal of the glands causes a complete loss of the ‘sex drive’ in up to seventy percent of the Omegas and, due to the hormonal change, dissolves any existing mate bond which would have to be renewed under notarial supervision with the explicit consent of all involved parties. Both of which are not outcomes Aldéric is willing to tolerate, therefore he continually refuses to agree to the procedure. The laws concerning an Omega’s right to make health decisions about his or her body without the assent of their Alpha came into effect years after our parents’ bonding, effectively leaving Daddy without official support.”

“You know,” John said after a moment of taking that all in, “don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I get this really strong urge to punch your father in the nose.”

This time, Sherlock actually laughed, even if it remained a bit strained. “Get in line.”

The rest of the drive passed in silence, Sherlock leaping from the car before it had fully stopped when they finally reached the hospital, once again pulling John along by their linked hands. Although, John was fairly sure Sherlock was too preoccupied with anxious worry to notice or care.

He also hissed and growled at every nurse brave enough to approach their little trio, having Mycroft sigh and roll his eyes repeatedly while he uttered apologies to pretty much everyone they came across on their way to Calvin’s room.

The man himself was awake again as they entered, causing Sherlock to let go of John for the first time since they had arrived at the manor in order to stride over to his father’s bed, cup the man’s cheeks and bend down to brush his lips over his forehead.

John couldn’t hear what he was murmuring, but Calvin gave a weak smile and patted his arm and, coupled with Sherlock’s surprising tenderness, John figured Calvin must at least be on the verge of getting better.

Which was a huge relief, causing the tension John hadn’t even noticed to leave his back and making his shoulders slump just a fraction from their formerly rigid pose.

Sherlock settled on a chair next to the bed, allowing Calvin to finally see the rest of his guests and wave both Mycroft and John over. Mycroft took a seat on the wide windowsill next to his sister who immediately slid over and snuggled into his side, John coming to perch on the foot end of the unexpectedly comfy bed.

Private clinic, he realised with an amused twist to his lips, eyes roaming over the warm, inviting colours of the furniture and noticing the distinctive lack of industrial white in the room.

Ford arrived only a few minutes later with dinner, so everyone settled in and around the bed to enjoy the Chinese take-out.

They stayed until Calvin very insistently threw out everyone with classes the next morning, Sherlock driving them home while John and Ellie sprawled in the backseat, lazy from too much food and starting to get sleepy.

Which was probably why no one noticed the lights being on in the mansion until they stepped inside, only to be greeted by the sight of Aldéric Holmes with a tumbler of bourbon in his hand and a scowl on his face.


End file.
